


There's Confetti In My Home Now (and I don't know what to do)

by FloraOne



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon, Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Accidental Nudity Included somewhere down the line, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, And Balcony Talks, And Driving Each Other Insane, Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, Emotional Infidelity, F/M, Not between the OTP but the third party, Romance, Roommates, Slow Burn, Trying to realistically portray falling in love while still in a different realtionship, Yes you're reading right I present to you an UsaMamo roommate AU, You're Welcome, and Pillow Forts, is involved anyway, mostly this is your typical romcom with comedy and drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-06-22 10:19:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 78,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15579792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FloraOne/pseuds/FloraOne
Summary: When Mamoru rents out a room in his apartment, he knew from the first moment she walked through that door that she was the worst possible choice of a roommate. That literally anyone would have been less loud, less chaotic, less prone to let all his belongings go up in flames. But he wasn’t going to admit it was not his head that had made the decision. And he wasn’t going to admit he’s been thinking of her way too much, or watching too intensely when she bites her lip, or licks melting ice-cream off her fingers, or…Shit.(Yes, you read that right. I present to you a Usamamo Roommate Trope. Enjoy.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So…. Everyone of you who follows me on tumblr knows it’s been a rollercoaster for me to get this thing out, and I’m so thankful for all you people who came out to cheer me on. This fic is supposed to be FUN – a lighthearted, romantic COMEDY, and I am neither a funny person, nor am I good at keeping things light, lol, and that’s why this is so rather terrifying for me, changing genres like that, lol. Anyway, exactly because I feel comedy is a genre that doesn’t come so easy to me, I wanted to try it, challenge myself, to see if I can write something more easy-going, but why it’s ALSO BEEN SO HARD. WRITING EASY, LIGHTHEARTED COMEDIES IS *SO HARD* YOU GUYS!
> 
> Anyway, here we are. Please be easy on me lol.
> 
> So yeah, that’s the why.
> 
> Anyyyway. As we’ve been discussing on tumblr a lot, Mamoru’s apartment is not extremely consistently portrayed. And so, because artistic freedom and lots of canon to choose from, for this piece, I’ve utilized the posh, spacious version of his apartment that we get shown sometimes. You know, NOT the default, one room with twin bed and coffee table and open kitchen deal that is his default apartment mostly throughout, but that weird anomaly that popped up from time to time, in pretty much one or two episodes per season, and that suddenly contained a separate, spacious living room with leather couches facing each other and lots of bookshelves and media shelves and plants everywhere, with a separate kitchen and a hallway that opened up to more hallways to both sides, a luxury bath and a friggin EMPTY ROOM that he could fill top to bottom with mirrors, all of a sudden? Yeah, that one. We’re using that one, here.
> 
> In fact, this very strange empty room Mamoru fills with mirrors in the beginning arc of Stars is the reason we’re here. It was an EMPTY UNUSED ROOM in his apartment, and I thought, huh, he’d even have space for a roommate …
> 
> …
> 
> He’d even have space for a R O O M M A T E…

“So, you’re really going to move in with a complete stranger?”

Makoto’s voice sounded concerned over the tinny sound of her phone, and she swiped her IC card and nodded politely towards the bus driver as she ascended the small step into the thick, humid, August heat.

Usagi sighed, shifted a little to adjust her cotton dress – the thinnest she owned that still looked reasonably cute.

“I’m just looking at an apartment, Mako-chan,” Usagi said, sighing again.

“You know you can just keep crashing at my place, right? Until things work out again?”

She nodded, even if Makoto couldn’t see her, of course. But… what would that make her? She’d just turned 25, and if she was completely honest… she had never lived on her own. She’d packed up her bags and moved in with a man she loved, feeling grown up and responsible. And she packed up again and faced moving back to her parents when those feelings didn’t grow the way his did, and instead ran and crashed on Makoto’s couch, and sometimes Mina’s, and sometimes Ami’s.

She’d never paid a day of rent in her life. And it was starting to bother her. It was time to face the music.

“He’s Motoki’s friend,” Usagi mumbled into her phone, in a voice that was at once dejected and trying to convince herself right along. “I’m sure he’s not a weirdo.”

Makoto made a little noise, starting to rattle off all the weird people Motoki – the boy who liked  _ everyone _ – knew, but Usagi talked on before she had the chance to interject.

“I mean – they  _ lived _ together for  _ years _ . It’s Motoki’s old room!” she said. How bad could the guy be?

“Well, and how come we never  _ met _ the guy, then? Huh?” Makoto replied, and Usagi rolled her eyes. “In all those years?”

The phone felt too hot against her ear, and she felt the uncomfortable slip of it, as it moved in a small pool of her own sweat against her ear. Makoto prattled on, saying something of how she should have just accepted Rei’s offer to accompany her. An offer that had made her feel even more like a helpless, dependent little baby.

Usagi sighed. “Listen,” she began, and then told Mako not to worry, and she’d hang up now, and she was just  _ looking _ at the apartment, not moving in yet, and she  _ promised _ she’d get out of there the  _ second _ Weirdo had a chance to grab a knife.  _ Promise _ .

Her friends were strangely overprotective of her sometimes.

They were probably right, though. She should just swallow her pride and return home to her parents. This was such a stupid idea.

And yet, she shifted the small bag containing the sleek and simple but classy bottle of red wine that Rei had begrudgingly helped her pick out under her arm, and strode a little faster towards the tall apartment building in front of her. Was it weird, to bring an omiyage to an apartment viewing? She didn’t know.

And it  _ was _ well located, she had to admit. Just off to the northern end of Azabu, barely ten minutes foot-walk from her parents’, two bus stops from Makoto’s, just minutes away from the next metro exit.

And it looked  _ posh _ . Way too expensive for the little amount of rent Motoki had said the room cost per month. And the clothes the woman wore that exited the building in front of her looked like  _ she _ had no problem paying her bills on time  _ at all _ .

This was silly. She swallowed. She’d walk in there, politely thank the guy for the opportunity and his time, politely decline, and go back to Mako’s, and search for proper single people apartments and get a  _ real _ job and grow the fuck up.

Yes, that’s what she would do.

She steeled her back a little, nodding to herself, as she stopped in front of the large apartment building and searched for the name on the bell panel that Motoki had given her.

Chiba. Chiba Mamoru.

She found it quickly, pressed it – the name tag still read two names. Chiba, Furuhata.

She was buzzed in immediately. Held her breath on the short elevator ride, felt the sweat pool at the back of her neck from the heat outside at the same time that her arms exploded in goosebumps at the sudden, too cold setting of the A/C that blared through the building, and yet she wiggled her hand into the fabric at her cleavage and shook it out, willing more of the chill air to cool her down.

She cursed her nerves when her hands trembled a little, as she knocked softly at the green door.

She wasn’t prepared for the way her brain stopped functioning the moment the door swung open, the way her blood did this weird rushing thing and her lips opened and nothing came out, and her hands still trembled but not from nerves. She didn’t know this feeling.

“You must be Tsukino Usagi,” said the sexiest, baritone voice she had ever heard through lips that made her bite her own.

It took her a moment too long. She was staring. Usagi nodded quickly, stupidly.

And he was blushing, she saw, blinking, standing in the door unmoving. She bit her lip, again. Shit – she was making him nervous the way she behaved, no doubt. But…

She felt her heart beat in her throat. This was the most stunning, beautiful person she had ever seen.

It took her a moment longer until she found her voice.

“So, can I come in?” she said rather comically, her voice too high. He hadn’t moved. Hadn’t said anything more.

He blinked. Blushed more, opened the door wide and moved rather jerkily.

She held her breath when she walked in, looking anywhere but right at him. For all the space this apartment seemed to contain just from looking into it, the genkan was rather narrow, and he hadn’t stepped away from it, instead leant against the open door.

She felt her arm brush against his shirt when she bent down to undo the clasp of her heels, felt him jerk and jump away as if burned.

“Right,” he said, moving quickly into the apartment, not waiting for her, and she stumbled out of her shoes and after him. “Shall I show you the room?”

L

“Wait, you’re moving in  _ when _ ?” Makoto said, appalled, hands on her hips, as Usagi halfheartedly picked up her strewn about clothes from Makoto’s plushy furniture and into a big, plastic, blue IKEA bag to the electric hum of Makoto’s A/C and Minako’s typing on her laptop.

“The day after tomorrow,” Usagi repeated, plucking a lace bra from a carved stile of Makoto’s ornate dining room chairs.

“Aren’t you gonna say something about this?” Makoto turned accusing eyes toward Minako, who barely shrugged, not listening, continuing to hack away on her laptop at the dining table.

Usagi pursed her lips, pulled her favorite, orange playsuit, the one she’d owned  _ forever _ and yet still fit her, from beneath Minako’s butt where she was sitting on it, and stuffed it in her blue IKEA bag.

She’d expected more of a reaction when she’d announced upon entering that she had found the man of her dreams and she was moving in with him.

_ “You find the man of your dreams every week,” Minako had deadpanned. The traitor. How could she. She _ off all people _ should have underst– “Last week it was that cute guy who sold you that last Crepe, although the store was already officially closed, because he flirted with you.” _

_ “Well, this time it’s different,” Usagi had huffed, crossing her arms, but the girls had only rolled their eyes at her. _

Instead, Makoto had scolded her, picked up the phone, yelled at it when Motoki didn’t pick up, and scolded Usagi some more, while Minako had barely looked up, and Usagi had grumpily started to gather her things together while occasionally eating puff eclairs – leftovers Makoto had brought home from the café. She  _ was _ gonna miss those, no kidding.

“You don’t know anything about this guy!” Makoto said, arms crossed.

Makoto was worse than Usagi’s own mother. Who, speaking about her, had reacted a little startled on the phone but wished her well, and asked which of the boxes she should have Papa drive over or if she wanted to pick them up herself.

Usagi shrugged, pulling her favorite mini skirt from between Makoto’s sofa cushions. He was perfect. Maybe a little neat. But not  _ everything _ could be perfect, right? She would move in and have hot –

“JACKPOT!” Minako yelled, banging the table so loud Usagi jumped and Makoto cursed and reminded her of neighbors.

With that, she pushed her laptop around and showed them pictures of…

Oh  _ My _ …

Usagi’s eyes widened, she practically attacked that laptop.

“Your boy is  _ extremely _ hard to google despite boring hospital staff pages, let me tell you,” Minako said with a cheeky grin. “But lookie here, turns out he made a little money as a  _ frigging male model _ under a pseudonym as a freshman university student.”

Makoto groaned loudly. “You’re  _ supposed to talk her out of this _ , Minako.”

L

Her heart beat a little fast, when Makoto killed the engine, and they sat in silence for a second in her small, narrow transporter van.

She didn’t bring a lot. An array of bulky, old, haphazardly packed and open IKEA bags, housing her clothes, knick knacks, her laptop thrown in between her bras and dresses and boxes of tampons and rose tea bags and Card Captor Sakura Chop Sticks, her old moon and bunnies comforter that had moved with her anywhere she’d lived; all the stuff she’d lived out of over the last three weeks when camping at her friends. An oversized suitcase full of the clothes she didn’t wear day to day or in different weather that she hadn’t touched since she’d packed up and moved out. Only two of the many, many boxes of clutter and mementos and old belongings that she’d repacked and taken from where the rest were stored in her old childhood room with her parents. This was a new start – she’d start it fairly light.

And, of course, the one thing she’d bought just this afternoon, just a few hours ago, hefting it out of the store with Makoto rather awkwardly, until Makoto had rolled her eyes, lifted it across her back and carried it alone. The most responsible and grown up thing she’d ever bought with her own money, even when it felt a little sad. A brand new futon for the bed, wrapped completely in plastic, because while the room was semi furnished with Motoki’s old furniture, she was sure Motoki and Reika had done more things in this bed than sleep and she wasn’t gonna think about that late at night.

“Ready?” Makoto asked, and Usagi bit her lips and nodded. She wasn’t sure why she was so nervous.

She exited the car while Makoto went around to open up the bag, and Usagi’s heart jumped a little when she’d pressed the bell and received a static, ruff,  “Hello?” over the intercom by Mamoru’s voice.

“Um, hi,” Usagi said, awkwardly. “It’s me… uh, I mean. Usagi. Tsukino Usagi. We’re—”

She got interrupted by the buzz that unlocked the front door without another word from him.

“…here,” she trailed off.

She pulled at her jeans shorts a little self-consciously, glad she at least didn’t have to be worried about how Makoto was gonna act, just herself. Glad, once again, that she’d forbidden Mina to tag along, who had disqualified herself for the job last night (“Stop wearing bras at home.” – “MINA-P!” – “Oh, and that way you moan when you eat ice-cream? Do it  _ more _ !” – “WHAT?” – “Just trust me!! Oh, and make sure to take me pictures of his—” “MINAKO!!”).

With a nervous feeling in her stomach, she wedged the door open, ran back to the van, and grabbed two IKEA bags that were a little too heavy and hefted them onto her shoulder to Makoto’s admonishing, “Just take one at a time, we can go more often,” that she simply ignored, and instead followed after her and the two much heavier boxes Makoto was carrying with ease.

She put one of the bags down, already winded in the pressing, humid, August heat when she’d only reached the elevator once, and jumped, startled, eyes wide, when it dinged open, and Mamoru stood there.

Sleeves rolled up, top buttons undone, eyes the deepest blue she’d ever seen, hair even messier than she’d seen it two days ago.

She hadn’t expected him to come down and help her…

She blinked. Forgot how to form the word, “hello,” and squeaked a little instead.

Damn was this weird. Was she really going to move in with this disarmingly hot but  _ complete stranger _ ?

But today, he didn’t react to her at all. Instead, he nodded rather stiffly, mumbled a very polite “good day”, and introduced himself to Makoto with a bow, before practically ripping the boxes from her hold without another word.

She frowned, Makoto blinked at her.

Makoto bowed in turn, mumbled something about how she’d get the next few boxes then, and Usagi’s eyes widened a little when the elevator doors closed on just the two of them, and she was suddenly aware of how sweaty she was  _ again _ , and how pretty much all her bras peaked out from her IKEA bag.

He looked purposefully ahead, not at her.

She was too aware of her own breathing, the rise and fall of her chest under her thin but very loose work out tank top and visible sports bra underneath, the way her heart beat too loud, his proximity, the silence.

It was stifling.  _ Awful _ .

“So, you ready for living with a girl?” she said, awkwardly, feeling utterly stupid but also a little proud for having said anything at all to break the weird silence.

The elevator dinged, and the doors pushed open.

“I bought you a separate bin for the toilet,” he said. His voice was clipped, dismissing, and he started forward, opening the door with his elbow and putting the boxes onto the shiny wooden floors without stepping up from the genkan, and turned back around in one motion and back out.

Usagi blinked. Taken aback. “Uh… ok.”

She had a little trouble piling the bags on top of the boxes. The hallway was narrow, but she was a tiny person, and she didn’t want to step on the shiny floors with her shoes, and didn’t want to take them off. She barely managed to stack them up – they wobbled dangerously, but she exhaled a breath when they stayed where they were.

When she was back out, she could just see the last inch of Mamoru’s side as the elevator doors closed on him.

He hadn’t waited up.

Usagi frowned.

Then pursed her lips. “Baka,” she grumbled under her breath.

She breathed in and out, calming her weird, irritated feelings, pushed the button of the elevator repeatedly and erratically.

It took a while until it was back, and opened up on Mamoru pushing out of it and brushing by her rather rudely, pushing her out of the way via blue IKEA bag that hung from his shoulder and housed, among else, some of her underwear, her big suitcase in his other hand.

“Hey,” she called after him, throwing Makoto a disbelieving look,  who threw her one right back, trailing out of the elevator after him slowly.

“Was he like this when you looked at the apartment?” she hissed under hear breath.

Usagi threw her a disbelieving shake of her head, wide eyed.

“Maybe he had a bad day?” Usagi whispered back, then startled when he came back out.

Makoto jerked awake, moved the bag into the apartment.

The elevator stood wide open. Usagi was already back inside, and so was Mamoru. But this time, he blocked the elevator doors with his foot. He was waiting for Makoto.

Usagi crossed her arms.

Had she said he was gorgeous? Maybe merely good-looking.

When they were back down, Usagi having huddled unnecessarily close to Makoto and farthest away from Mamoru in the elevator, Makoto basically jumped out, and grabbed the last of her bags.

Usagi threw her an appalled look. That left the mattress. The one Makoto knew she couldn’t take alone.

With an annoyed sigh, she ripped at its side, bouncing off of it rather comically when she managed to wedge it free from its vehicle confines with a grunt.

She heard another sigh, not from her this time, when he grabbed it by the side and helped her lift it up.

It was a little hard to carry up. He was so much taller than her, and strode so much faster. She clawed her hands into the plastic, so it wouldn’t slip from her hands.

When they were back in the building, the lights on the top of the elevator already signaled an upwards ride.

Damn you, Makoto.

He stood the mattress upright, held onto it with one hand and one hip while it wobbled dangerously on her side, and pushed the button for the elevator. Repeatedly. Almost as annoyed as she had done.

“So,” she tried again. “Do you have plans tonight?”

“Yes.”

Clipped, again. He didn’t even look at her, and definitely didn’t elaborate.

“Oh,” she said, lamely. “How about tomorrow?”

“I don’t know, yet.”

The elevator arrived. Opened with a ding. He pulled the mattress inside and her alongside with a yank.

She blinked. Swallowed. “Well, I thought, maybe we could get pizza delivered, and get to kn—”

“I’m not sure I’ll have the time.”

Usagi blinked again. “Right.”

The elevator opened again, he wrenched the mattress out of it rather forcefully. Usagi basically only held on to it anymore.

She stumbled a bit, when he lifted the side of it, and hers collapsed under her, and she moved jerkily to catch it, barely. He didn’t really wait for her to get her bearings.

When they got to the door, he lifted the futon up and from her hands, and leaned it against the side of the door. Then, he got inside, slipped off his shoes, and did what Makoto did – carry the bags from the hallway into her room.

“Right,” Usagi mumbled again, pulled the mattress inside by the plastic, jerkily and clumsily, and closed the door.

Then she slipped off her shoes as well, grabbed a bag. Mamoru already returned for the second, Makoto right behind.

“Well, maybe you want to come with us t—” Usagi tried again, trying her utmost to sound happy and like nothing was the matter.

“That’s really not necessary,” he said, interrupting her, while lifting another bag.

She frowned.

“The small talk,” he elaborated. “I prefer to work in silence.”

Then he lifted a second bag, and turned around without waiting for a reply.

Usagi was left gaping. Makoto narrowed her eyes.

“Well, now we know why Motoki never bothered to introduce him.” Makoto didn’t even whisper this time.

Had she said he was good-looking? He was merely passable. And a giant fucking jerk.

Who was her new roommate.

She yanked a bag off the bag tower. Cursed loudly when it toppled over, and the hardwood floors were covered in panties, pens, purses and peko-chan paraphernalia.

She sighed, got up on her hands and knees, and when she looked back up, Mamoru was back there, and looked at her rather startled as she looked up from her perch on all fours in between her delicates.

This time, he was blushing again. “Right, I’ll leave you to it, then,” he said, and disappeared into the room down the hall that she realized she hadn’t seen when she viewed the apartment, and probably was his.

Her eyes narrowed some more, and she grumpily threw her items back into the nearest IKEA bag, and Makoto knelt down with a sign and helped her.

“Just say the word, and we’re moving this all back down into the van,” she said.

She sighed, threw one of her pens back into the bag – her favorite, her  _ lucky _ pen, the pink one with the jeweled top she’d gotten when she kicked one of Motoki’s game machines that one time.

“No,” Usagi sighed. Looked into the apartment. The living room, spacious and lush, filled with exotic plants and big leather couches, was doused in golden light that filtered through the transparent curtains by the balcony. The sun was setting behind Tokyo Tower. The view was  _ stunning _ .

Besides, the rent was laughable. The room was big, and she only had to live with the guy after all.

She shook her head, threw the last of her errant belongings in the bag and pushed it towards Makoto.

“Help me unpack?” she asked.

Makoto pursed her lips, but nodded. And hefted not two, but three IKEA bags on her person, dropped them into her room, and then carried the stupid futon in all by herself. It looked effortless.

Usagi had to giggle.

It didn’t take them long, of course. Not with Makoto there. In less then an hour her clothes were folded so neatly Usagi knew she would be afraid to ever touch that dresser again, Makoto had dressed the bed and thrown her comforter on it so beautifully she was sure a bed had never looked as inviting as this one, string lights framed her window and the iron headboard of her new bed, and Usagi was putting up her few current Manga issues and artbooks into the shelf and secured the meager collection of printed books with a little moon book end. It filled up barely half a row. The rest of the shelf she filled with her little pink plush rabbit she’d had since she was little, picture frames of the girls, one row just for her camera equipment, and her little framed cork board that held most of her jewelry.

She’d also filled up one of the IKEA bags with her toiletries and things she’d dump in the bathroom whenever she had the guts to face the outside of this room again.

“Oh, and I almost forgot!” Makoto said, and reached into her backpack that was leaning against the door. Out came a small and beautiful plant with a pink bow on it.

Usagi blinked.

“Your housewarming gift!” Makoto said, beaming.

Usagi blinked again. This plant would be dead by the end of the week.

Makoto giggled, shook her head. “Don’t worry,” she pinched a leaf. “See? It’s plastic. You can’t kill it. But a new living arrangement needs a plant.”

Usagi sighed in relief, and Makoto rolled her eyes and put it into the shelf, right next to a framed photo of all of them together. Minako was posing dramatically, Ami had her nose stuck in a book, Usagi was mid-fall. It was perfect.

“There,” Makoto said. “Welcome home!”

Usagi had to smile, and then, completely out of nowhere, came a sob.

She was in Makoto’s arms in barely a second.

“Shhh,” Makoto hushed. “I’m here.”

She didn’t know why the sobs turned so ugly, why she clawed herself into Mako’s shirt like so. Maybe it was the breakup finally catching up to her. Maybe it was Shingo and the shiny successful life she just didn’t manage to lead, too. Maybe it was the jerk down the hall.

“Do you want us to pack it all back up?” Makoto whispered into her hair. “Cause we can do that.”

She laughed through her tears. Short and mirthless, and it did the job to calm her down.

She leaned back, rubbed her face.

“No,” she said, smiling meekly. “I’m fine. Just nerves.”

Makoto frowned a little but nodded. It was one of the things she appreciated most. Makoto never pushed when it was important. Even if she disagreed, Makoto always respected her decisions.

She froze again, when she looked up, and saw Mamoru standing in the door. He wore a new, clean shirt, a set of keys in his hand, his face completely ashen and shocked at the way her face was blotched in tears.

They looked at each other for a second, both frozen, until Usagi wiped at her face again, and Makoto spoke.

“Did you want something?”

He jerked into motion, his free hand flew to the back of his neck, his eyes to the floor and then back to hers.

They didn’t leave hers this time, concerned and wide, almost ashamed, when he haltingly moved into the room, and held out his hand.

He didn’t ignore her now, that was certain, and Usagi wasn’t sure how it made her feel.

Usagi didn’t reach out, and so, with clammy hands, he grabbed her hand with his, uncurled it, and placed a set of keys inside.

She hated the way her fingers tingled where he’d touched them.

He retracted his hands immediately. His hand flew back to the back of his neck, but his concerned, wide eyes didn’t leave hers.

“Welcome,” he said, swallowed. “I’m sorry if I—”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry  _ that _ I—” he broke off again. “Made you feel… unwelcome.”

Usagi blinked.

Maybe he was a  _ little _ good-looking.

“It’s not easy for me—” He broke off again. Shook his head, and looked around the room.

“It looks prettier with your things than Motoki’s,” he said.

_ Now _ he was making small talk?

Usagi stared. So did Makoto.

Mamoru cleared his throat, walked two steps backwards toward the door –  _ her _ door, now.

“Right,” he said, and turned to leave.

Usagi and Makoto exchanged a look.

Makoto was the first to speak. “About that pizza… We were gonna head out later, if you—”

He shook his head, and his eyes, again, landed on Usagi’s, not Makoto’s. Apologetic, this time.

“I’m sorry, I really do have plans.”

She nodded.

“Maybe tomorrow.”

 

She smiled.

“Maybe tomorrow,” she repeated.

He turned to leave.

“So, where are you going?” Makoto, again, and Usagi jabbed her in the ribs. That was none of their business.

He froze in the doorway. Turned around almost comically slow.

This time, he didn’t look at Usagi at all. Only at Makoto, when he spoke.

“I’m meeting my fiancé for dinner.”

Usagi’s eyes nearly bugged right out of her head.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohmygod you guys xD Thank you so much for the overwhelming love of this silly, silly venture of mine and YOU COULD NOT MAKE ME HAPPIER. (Also I lost a bet with Uglygreenjacket because of you, because she said you’d love it, and I said you wouldn’t, and now I gotta write a piece where I cut things off beloved characters of mine soonish, lol.)
> 
> Anyway, THANK YOU GUYS! For keeping me motivated, for shouting all that love and encouragement at me, and I’m gonna treasure every single one of those reviews.
> 
>  
> 
> So, next up, a time jump. You will get in which direction ; ) Just imagine the whirring sound of “rewind”.

“I need your help,” Mamoru said, running his hands through his hair. “Please, Motoki.”

He paced Motoki’s tacky rug, the one he’d always hated, the one he’d now give anything to  _ stay _ , while Motoki filled a cardboard moving box with his remaining belongings, one by one.

It had been... He hadn't even  _ thought _ about the possibility that Saori might want to move in, when Motoki moved out. It hadn’t even occurred to him.

He’d thought they’d be comfortable with how things were. What they had was good! She at her place, he at his. Giving each other space to be their own, individual person, and being welcome guests in each other’s selfmade lives. Only a couple streets apart, even! And, since he didn't actually  _ need _ the money Motoki brought in with the room really, he'd thought about leaving it... not empty, but turning it into a study. And not a  _ joint _ one. Some peace and quiet until - eventually, down the line - he would leave this place behind, sell it once and for all, and they would find a bigger one together to settle… A place with separate studies and space for solitude.  

He'd never thought about the possibility she might have been  _ waiting _ for Motoki to move out…

The way her eyes had lit up when he’d first told Saori that Motoki moved out. The way she’d started helping him make plans for the study, changes to the living room, insisted  _ they _ could… He should have seen it coming. How had he been so blind?

“I...” Mamoru started again, fist in his hair. What was it that freaked him out so?

“You have cold feet,” Motoki said, carefully lifting a framed photo of him and Reika off the wall. It left behind a frame-sized patch of darker color, where the sun had had no chance to fade the light creme color off the wall for the years it had hung there.

“No! I...” Mamoru frowned. Did he? “... We had a plan.”

“Oh, yeah?” Motoki said, rolling his eyes for the umpteenth time, carefully wiping imaginative specs of dust off the frame and then wrapping it in tissue paper.

“Yes. Wait until we're  _ both _ done with university. Gotten stable jobs, worked towards our career paths,  _ THEN _ we'd get married.” That had always been important to Saori - she wanted a career before marriage, wanted to be hired without stigma, especially in a work field where women were so heavily stigmatized as the police force – Tokyo’s first female chief of police! That was her  _ dream _ and—

“You realize people do move in together before they marry, right?”

Mamoru frowned. “Of course! But—”

“And that you’re  _ technically _ done with university, just working on your dissertation, and already a resident?” Motoki interrupted, “In a hospital  _ you, yourself, _ told me is so pleased with your work they’re already talking long-term?” he added. Mamoru didn’t like the patronizing tone one bit.

Mamoru’s frown deepened “Of course! Just...” he trailed off, shoulders slumping.

“Just?”

His voice was smaller now, when he answered. “I thought I still had time.”

Motoki shook his head. “Cold. Feet.”

Mamoru stopped pacing with a sigh. Was that it? Was he one of those people?

Motoki was still shaking his head, only slower, when he lifted the small bowl of soiled soap water he’d used to wipe the dresser and shelf and items so carefully with, and moved to exit the room, clearly done with this conversation.

Mamoru startled, moved out after him. “Wait!”

“What??” Motoki said, lifting his shoulder awkwardly but not slowing. The soap water sloshed a bit in the bowl.

“I need your help!” Mamoru called after him.

Motoki’s voice grew distant, as he moved into the bathroom, and he heard the sound of water hitting porcelain, and the gurgling sound of a drain, before Motoki turned the faucet and new water flowed into the little bowl.

“No way, Mamoru.”

“I told Saori I already have someone who’s moving in! A friend of yours!”

Motoki came back out, fresh cleaning water in tow, and brushed by Mamoru without so much as a look, just another slow shake of his head. “Tell her the truth, Mamoru.”

“Please!” Mamoru said, following his roommate into the emptied remnants of his room.

“I’m not going to lie for you!”

“You wouldn’t even have to lie!” Mamoru cried, “You have so many friends!  _ Surely _ ,  _ one _ of them might be in need of a spacious room just a stone’s throw away from Keio? Anyone? I won’t go up with the rent! At all! Please!”

Well, in his sucky defense… she hadn’t downright said the words out loud, ever. Hinted at them so plainly that in hindsight he should have long gotten it, but she never actually said the words. ‘We could move in together’ were words that were never uttered, in any way. And by the time he’d finally gotten it, finally understood the unasked question, just last week, he’d lied and told her a friend of Motoki’s was moving in, he was so sorry, but it had been arranged weeks,  _ months _ ago.

Motoki put the bowl down, dunked his washcloth in it, wrung it out, and pursed his lips.

“I still need time…” Mamoru said, voice small.

Motoki was moving out for good  _ tomorrow _ . Most of his boxes where already moved to Reika’s. He had no time. Had he foreseen this, he could have… Mamoru shook his head, burrowing his hand deeper in his hair. This was all  _ so _ unlike him, he knew that.

Mamoru sighed, just as Motoki moved to unhook the hanging planter from the top of his window frame and started to wipe it down. The plant it had housed was already on Reika’s balcony, Mamoru had carried it up the stairs for Motoki himself, when they brought the last and biggest bulk of his stuff over yesterday evening.

To Mamoru’s ears and heart, it was a throb of a miracle when Motoki finally answered with a grumbled,

“ _ Fine _ . I do actually have a friend who needs a place to stay.”

YES! Mamoru banged his fist on the wooden dresser. The one Motoki wasn’t taking to Reika’s and he would not be moving out of this room  _ after all _ .

“She'll drive you insane. She's the last person in the world you would get along with,” Motoki said, wrapping the planter in tissue paper and nestling it into the cardboard box.

“I just need to live with her!”

Motoki shook his head. “If you change your mind in two weeks—”

“I won't.”

“She  _ actually _ needs a place to stay, you know? If you realize your stupidity in two weeks and she's—”

“Won't happen.”

Motoki made a guttural sound in the back of his throat that sounded halfway between ‘Hrg,’ and ‘Baka.’

“Please, Motoki!”

 

* * *

He’d known, upon opening the door, that this was going to be the worst decision he would ever make, and yet, why he said yes so readily, he would never know.

And that was even way before she’d passed the threshold, way before she’d had the chance to give him a glimpse of the content of her purse, as she rummaged around for a pen and he spotted clutter that must have accumulated over years. Before she’d almost knocked over the antique vase in the living room that Saori had given him for his birthday a few years ago, paid for with the money of her first ever salary. Before she’d answered a call in a greeting  _ so loud _ ,  _ so overtly cheerful _ , just to tell whoever was on the other line that she was busy right now and would call back later.

She’d been fifteen minutes later than they had arranged, and he’d had the time to pace the length of his living room to decide that Motoki was right, and that this was a giant mistake, and that he just should own up and swallow his … whatever this was, and tell Saori the truth and let her move in already.

So, by the time the doorbell did finally ring, he’d steeled his shoulders, buzzed her in, and was fully prepared to apologize to Motoki’s friend, tell her the room was no longer available and sorry for the inconvenience, wondering if it was rude to do it directly at the door and send her away before she ever entered his apartment…

And then he opened the door.

It was a surreal moment. Maybe the most surreal he’d ever known.

Mamoru was not a sentimental man. He did not believe in things that were not rational and logical. Had always waved them away.

But right at that moment, upon looking into the biggest, bluest eyes he’d ever seen, framed by golden hair that almost but not quite fell into them, he was frozen.

He didn’t allow his brain to analyze it further. Did not allow himself to analyze the myriad of ways his body reacted to the presence of this short, petite woman with that peculiar hairstyle in front of him.

It took all his willpower not to dissect it all.

And then there was this other feeling. Running even deeper, even less logical, less rational. He knew, without a doubt, he had never seen the girl in his life – would not have been able to forget her if he had. And yet, for a moment, he wasn’t sure if he didn’t know her from somewhere, sometime, after all.

“You must be Tsukino Usagi,” he said. It was on autopilot, a portion of his brain that seemed to still be capable of speech.

She nodded, and her big eyes blinked at him a bit, causing him to flush, the blood rushing into his face uncomfortably. He must look like an utter fool, staring as he was.

Still petrified, he couldn’t help it, though. She was… 

“So, can I come in?” she said, in a voice way too alluring, too sweet. A voice that sounded like his doom.

_ Tell her to go. Tell her the room is not available anymore. Don’t let her in. _

But of course, he knew he’d already decided. There was nothing he could do against it. And so instead of opening his mouth and giving the speech he’d prepared for as he’d waited for her, he opened the door wide, moved with sluggish, almost drugged movements. Too slow, too weird, and she walked in.

Brushed against him, as she bent to free her slender feet from shoes way too feminine, because he had no brain power left apparently to move away from her, and the sudden contact threw him so much he jumped away in panic.

_ Saori _ . His brain screamed, willing up Saori’s sweet, gentle smile, and he swallowed. This was a giant, fucking mistake. And yet, the rest of him had other plans.

“Right,” he said, moving quickly into the apartment, not waiting for her, heard her shuffle behind him as she struggled to keep up. “Shall I show you the room?”

He walked her through the hall, noticed her peak into the living room briefly and she commented with surprised and appreciative words. Led her into Motoki’s room, explained the furniture in awkward, halting words.

He’d tried not to look at her for the rest of it, but completely failed. Completely enthralled.

He was surprised he wasn’t making her feel utterly uncomfortable with the way he looked at her.

She was sweet, terribly sweet, her smile taking over her whole face. And terribly clumsy, obviously terribly disorganized, and all over the place.

“Um,” she said, wide-eyed, and he swallowed. Her voice was doing strange things to him.

He blinked at her.

“You sure you didn't make a typo in your email?” she said, looking around the space, the view.

He frowned.

“The rent...” she said, and he blinked, understanding. “The room is huge. The  _ apartment _ is huge... I, um...”

He swallowed. This was his chance, his last chance. Tell her a different, way higher price. Make her decide against if he apparently couldn’t… And yet…

And yet, he shrugged. “No,” he said, not believing his own voice. “It’s right. That’s the price.”

What the hell was he doing.

She’d asked a few more questions, he showed her the bathroom, the kitchen, the living room. Walked her out on the balcony where she gushed at the view of Tokyo Tower and his stomach made weird throbbing motions when he saw the way her eyes lit up and her hair stirred lightly in the slight, yet hot breeze.

Had to hold his breath when she presented him with a bottle of wine with both hands and his fingers brushed against hers when he took it and he swallowed and fled back into the living room, placing it carefully into his glass cabinet.

She talked, chattering openly and excited, about nothing consequential really. He answered, even when he did not remember what he said, just that some of it made her giggle. What had he said?

What had he done?

“When can you move in?” he heard his voice ask.

What had he done.

It was only when she was gone that the panic fully settled in. When he collapsed with his back on his bed and stared at his ceiling.

What had he done.

He’d decided before she arrived he would say no. She was loud, she was cluttery, she was late. He was reacting to her in ways entirely wrong. Entirely forbidden.  _ He had Saori. _

And yet…

Why had he said yes?

What had he done?!

Mamoru didn’t admit it wasn’t his brain that had made the decision. Didn’t admit he had felt things today he had never felt before.

He did admit that Motoki was right, though. That this was a terrible decision, and that he had cold feet.

Yes, that explained it. That explained it all. He had cold feet. That was it. That was all.

The rest were symptoms. And he only had to live with the girl, after all.

 

* * *

Well, it seemed he was gonna fuck this situation up as much as he humanly possibly could.

He realized he was walking a bit too slow on the narrow lane, lost in thought. People were passing him by with irritated sighs on the busy, narrow, red-cobbled streets of nighttime Juuban, but he couldn’t shake the sight of Usagi’s teared up face, red and puffy and  _ his fault. _

He’d had two days to think about the situation. But because he was too chicken to face the music, and something in him that he didn’t want to dwell on held him back from calling the whole thing off, he’d settled on the decision that he would just… not be … not be what? Had believed whatever it was he was doing was the solve-all-problems solution.

He didn’t even know exactly what he’d meant to achieve. Just if… If they were simple cohabitants, living together for practical reasons but not for…

And judging by the way Usagi and her friend had talked about him halfway through the atrocious thing, he was pretty assured he had nothing to fear.

He sighed. Even his thoughts were jumbled.

He’d forgotten to consider that he might hurt her feelings with his behavior.

He sighed, rubbed his face, looked up and jogged across the road as the green light started to blink, indicating the end of its phase.

He turned a corner, jogged up the little flights of stairs, passing the little flower shop underneath, and stepped into the restaurant.

Saori was already sitting in their usual booth.

He slowed down. His nerves flared up.

She was gripping her elbows tightly, arms crossed, legs crossed, face stoic and looking stubbornly ahead.

She was still mad.

He sighed deeply, but squared his shoulders, and slipped into the booth and beside her.

She jumped a little. He pressed a quick, harried kiss to her temple, as if nothing were wrong, and she visibly stiffened.

“Have you been waiting long?” he asked, raising his hand to wave for the waiter.

“Barely two minutes,” she said, but her voice was clipped and sharp. The way she talked when she was utterly furious.

He nodded, sighing.

“So?” Saori asked.

“So, what?” he answered, warily.

“How was it?” Saori said, her voice sharp. Downright pissed. “Is she moved in?”

He sighed once more. What had he expected, really? Motoki was right, this was the biggest mistake he’d ever made. Not only did he have a serious case of cold feet that caused him to make this dick move and hurry someone into the apartment only so that his fiancée – his girlfriend for  _ ten years _ – would not move in with him, he’d also let a girl move in that all the hormones in his body seemingly reacted very well to.

Luckily, she had no idea of the latter, of course. And hopefully only guessed the former. But it didn’t make him less of a prick.

He winced, then swallowed. His shoulders fell.

“… I made her cry within living there for an hour…” he mumbled, defeated.

He was such an asshole.

But with this, suddenly, her whole demeanor changed.

“WHAT?” she exclaimed, her whole stance opening. Green eyes concerned and sympathetic, and utterly appalled. His lovely, nice Saori.  _ There _ she was. “Mamoru! What did you do to the poor girl?”

And he winced once more, because  _ why _ did Saori directly  _ have _ to rightly assume it had been his fault?

He shrugged awkwardly. “I was just… trying to not be overtly nice to her. You know, try to make clear that I wasn’t…” he caught her eyes. They had turned soft, moved. “Anyway, turns out I can be very rude.”

Saori laughed with a sympathetic, pitying smile, and touched his arm.

He guessed he was forgiven for now.

It made him feel even worse.

And it didn’t help that whenever he allowed his mind to stay, Usagi’s bloodshot, teary face popped into his mind, and the way she rubbed at it to hide it from him, and the way it consumed his chest with this tightening, awful feeling.

“Well, it’s sweet, Mamoru. But you don’t have to be mean to her for me,” Saori said, and he blinked, feeling awful. If only she was right, and he’d done it only for Saori and not for himself. “You officially have my blessing to be nice to your new roommate,” she said. It was a joke, she had a twinkle in her eye.

It did nothing to soothe his nerves.

He nodded, swallowing.

“And you know… if you two don’t get along…” she trailed off, biting her lip. “We can always… look for a bigger place together. The two of us.”

His gut fell. His hands began trembling. There it was again, that feeling.

Yes. Definitely cold feet.

“Yes,” he nodded, but he did not look her in the eye.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, thank you Uglygreenjacket, my beta, for cheering the Cursed Fic on, and thank you also to Antigone2, for listening to me randomly ramble fic at you. You are both incredibly much appreciated <3
> 
> Anyway. Theeeeere you go ; ) Please let me know what you think of it, and of my use of Saori, lol.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys… I am so floored, so blown away. You are dropping whole buildings full of love on me, nicely packaged and wrapped with a bow in the form of reviews, comments, asks on tumblr, and I really don't deserve it, and I really don't know how to adequately show my appreciation for all of you.
> 
> I'm really, really, really moved here. I am so happy you like this silly fic, and I hope you will continue to like it.
> 
> This chapter isn't as heavy on the comedy as the last ones were, but, I had to give them a little one on one time to get to know each other, so there is that, and I hope you'll like it anyway! But, BOTH my wonderful beta Uglygreenjacket AND my lovely Antigone2 said it's ok like this, so I'm hoping you'll think so, too!

"WHAT?!" Minako yelled into her ear, so loud Usagi almost dropped the phone into the sink. "MALE MODEL IS ENGAGED?!"

Usagi rolled her eyes and pursed her lips, none of them things Minako could actually see, but she supposed she could read the sigh that escaped her, too, quite well.

"What a shame," Minako mumbled.

Usagi grumbled. "Well, he's not _that_ good-looking, so…"

Minako laughed a 'yeah, right' into her ear. "So, is he back yet?"

Usagi shook her head, mumbled a no, and pushed her perfume bottles and lotions into the narrow, way too small bathroom cabinets. "Nah, he never came back from his date."

Another grumbling noise from Minako, and a few, 'What do you know, all the pretty ones are taken'-lamentations, only to proceed and tell her of her latest photo shoot. She was the cover model for the new Nissin instant yakisoba ad! At least, you know, her hands and mouth were, and a little bit of hair.

To be honest, Usagi wasn't so sad that he didn't return for the night. It gave her the opportunity to roam the apartment, test out the TV, sneak into his (way too neat) bedroom and snoop a little, and, when he didn't return in the morning and during the day either, allowed her to have ice cream for breakfast on the balcony (after a short trip down to the conbini that was only two buildings away, _luckyyy_!) to a view of Tokyo Tower, and plan a little for her next vlog, before heading out for a play session with the kids.

She returned, hours later, loaded with shopping bags from Loft and Donki with stuff she _absolutely needed_ in a new apartment (they had a _pompompurin_ _travel_ _mug_! Nevermind she didn't actually drink coffee and it was the middle of summer, but she _needed_ that! And _tiny little cream jugs_!), plus all the latest new yummy limited edition foods she could find… but when she got back, he was still not home, and she grew a little concerned.

So, after depositing her shiny new items in various places in the apartment, changing into more comfortable clothes, and stuffing her previously disregarded toiletries into every nook and cranny of his rather luxurious three-parter bathroom, telling Minako of her woes and the previous day, she was beginning to wonder if it fell under roommate-obligations to file a missing person report, or if she should maybe call Motoki and ask for Mamoru's phone number, or—

It was that moment that she heard a key turn in the lock, and she mumbled a quick, hushed, "Nevermind, he's here," into the phone and rushed a quick goodbye before completely hanging up on Minako.

A few things surprised her all at once, when she hopped out from the bathroom and landed upon him directly in the hall, as he slipped out of his shoes.

That his scrubs were white, not blue; that he wore scrubs at all; that he looked at her again in that peculiar, halfway between deer-caught-in-headlights and utterly confused way, not saying a word.

"You're a doctor?" Usagi asked, stupidly, sakura-scented hand cream in a bright, Disney-themed tube raised just as stupidly in her hand.

He blinked, didn't answer, and looked up ahead into the living room, blinking some more.

She followed his gaze and shrugged.

She supposed her half empty shopping bags _were_ strewn around the place, some of her colorful new stuff _was_ currently residing on the coffee table and both couches, and his fancy stereo _was_ blasting J-Pop.

They spoke at the same time.

"I'll clean that up later—"

"Guess you made yourself right at home—"

She shifted uncomfortably. "Uh…"

He looked good in white…

He bent down, hair falling into his face, and he picked up his shoes (hers from earlier today were still lying there, toppled over) and moved to open the tall shoe cabinet in the wall behind the door, and she saw him blink again and freeze when he pulled open the handle.

Well, of course she knew it was now filled up considerably with loads and loads of bright, girly footwear, but it's not like he could not still find _some_ space for his.

He cleared his throat, and she suddenly realized she was just standing there and staring at him.

"So…" she began, blushing. "Pizza?"

He nodded, even if it was with a little frown, and what looked like heavy swallowing.

"Let me get ready," he said.

Why the fuck again did his voice have to sound so deep and raspy?

"Ok," she said, rather stupidly, and turned on her spot to venture deeper into the apartment, placed her tube of hand cream absentmindedly into a bookshelf, and turned the music off.

The silence that fell felt a little stifling.

She heard him shuffle around, as she retracted into the living room, saw him carry a bunch of white, stiff fabric into the bathroom and then, after a little while, heard the washing machine whirr to life and, only a little later, the sound of rushing water from the shower.

It was a sudden thought, and she shook it off, embarrassed – the realization that Mamoru was naked and wet in a room so near she could hear it.

Flushing, she pulled out her phone, and ordered pizza.

And apparently, the guy showered even longer than her. Because by the time she'd buzzed up the Pizza-La delivery girl, and she'd carried in the family-sized Summer Supreme Surprise Ebimayo Quarter, he was still not out.

It was a little later that he finally padded out, in a black T-shirt and comfortable looking sweatpants that hung low on his hips, and she had to look away when she felt her cheeks grow a little hot from the view.

"Balcony?" she asked, and he nodded.

Why exactly was it that she only managed to speak one-word sentences to the guy?

Since Mamoru actually had no furniture on his rather spacious balcony, Usagi had dragged two of her biggest cushions outside, rather pink and ruffle-y and Sanrio but comfortable, and propped up an empty moving box as a makeshift table.

His eyebrows raised to his hairline when he trailed out after her and managed to get a view of the way the pizza box was bigger than the moving box beneath, and he chuckled.

"What, have you invited ten more friends?" he asked with a cocky smirk.

Clearly, he had never seen Tsukino Usagi eat.

She rolled her eyes and plopped down bum first onto one of the throw pillows. "Watch me," she said, and opened the box with an appreciative sigh. It smelled delicious.

He cleared his throat again, shifted a little, and then sat down beside her and on top of Cinnamoroll's plushy cushion face.

"Do you want me to get cutlery? Napkins?" he asked, and she rolled her eyes again, and pulled a slice with her fingers, covered in creamy shrimp, a dark avocado sauce, mushrooms and cheesy, sticky goodness.

He shifted again, when she moaned into her first bite of it, and she threw him a look.

"Nothing," he said, clearing his throat once more, but then moved to get a slice of his own.

She'd started her second by the time he'd even started daintily nibbling on one, and while the silence and mood between them was still weird, at least now there was food involved, and _that_ was always an improvement.

"So, how long have you lived here?" Usagi asked, mid-third piece, mid-chew, breaking the silence.

He lowered his pizza, his first slice still, and scrunched up his brow, thinking.

"Um, a long time. Always… in some ways," he said, after thinking a while. It seemed he was choosing his words carefully. "It was my parent's apartment, um, before," he said, a little quickly, and she blinked, surprised.

But before she had a chance to ask, he elaborated further… or something like that. She'd wanted to ask something different.

"Motoki moved in when we both finished high school. For college. He went to Keio, too. And that's… well, right around the corner," he said, quickly, a little harried, and then bit into his pizza, much faster than he had before, and swallowed.

She cocked her head, attempting to ask her question again, but he talked first.

"So, Usagi-san…" he said, almost fumbling.

She pulled a face. "That's way too formal. C'mon, we live together."

He threw her a look, and then laughed.

It seemed to relax him. His shoulders lost their tenseness.

"What do you suppose I call you, then?" he said.

She shrugged, theatrically. "How am I supposed to know what you'll call me?"

He shook his head but smiled slowly.

"Why the hairstyle?" he asked instead.

She lifted her head, surprised. "Why not?"

"Just…" he started, and she could have sworn she saw him flush a little, "it's unusual, don't you think?"

She shrugged. "Maybe I like being unusual."

He chuckled, slow and deep, looking down onto his pizza, and his hair fell into his eyes again and it was her this time who felt the need to clear her throat.

 _Taken_ , her mind yelled. _Taken_. Also, a jerk.

"Why is the rent so cheap?" she asked, quickly.

He furrowed his brow. "Is it?" he asked, but it seemed a little off. Like he full well knew it was, so she just kept staring, and he relented.

He shrugged awkwardly. "I own the apartment. I don't really…" he frowned again, having obvious trouble with the wording. "I've never wanted to ask for much from Motoki. The rent is what it is, because it's what we'd both agreed on, so I wouldn't feel guilty for exploiting him, and he wouldn't feel bad for exploiting me."

She blinked. That was… extremely nice. Extremely thoughtful.

"Why do you have no pictures of your girlfriend around?" she asked, with a slight blush, and he stiffened. It felt a little like she'd broken an unspoken rule. As if this were something taboo to speak about for them.

She realized only later that she didn't say fiancée, and that he didn't correct her.

"How would you know I don't have loads of pictures of her in my room," he said, evasively.

"You don't," she deadpanned. "I looked."

He immediately threw her a look, a little shocked, a little amused, and she shrugged a little sheepishly, putting all the, 'Well, I _live_ here,' into it that she was capable of managing.

His lingered a little on her, accusing, amused, but then they went back to his pizza, and he shrugged awkwardly.

"I'm not the sentimental type," he answered, simply.

Ah.

"Well, why do you—" she started again, leaning forward now, but he interrupted her.

"Is this the twenty questions now?" he asked with a chuckle, and she leaned back against the glass behind her with a huff.

"What if it were?" she pouted. They lived together. She wanted to get to know him. She told herself fiercely that it was the _only_ reason she wanted to get to know him for.

He chuckled again, and Usagi had to smile. It suited him, that small twinkle in his eyes.

"Well, let me at least get a coffee for that," he said, shaking his head with a smile, and got up. Got up. "Do you want one, too?"

She scrunched up her nose in distaste, and he laughed again.

"No coffee, then."

"Ever," she said.

"Noted," he smirked, and it tingled a bit within her, and he disappeared through the balcony door.

She inhaled her sixth piece of pizza and leaned her head fully against the glass. The moon was pretty tonight, and she had to smile.

When he returned, a little later, she was eating the last slice of pizza with a deep moan, because damn this pizza was good, and out of the corner of her eye she could see him stiffen in the doorway.

She shot him a curious glance over a mouth full of pizza and he blinked, shaking out of it, and placed a glass of juice in front of her on the pizza carton, and a cup of coffee – saucer and all – in front of him, and lowered himself back down rather gracefully, folding obnoxiously long legs effortlessly.

He shifted a little on the cinnamoroll cushion. "I'm sorry I was such an asshole to you, yesterday," he said, rather awkwardly.

She shrugged. "Well, you're ok now, I guess," she said with a smile she knew would probably turn out somewhat cheeky.

He cleared his throat. "Yeah, well..."

And then he raised his coffee cup for a toast. "To a peaceful cohabitation, Odango Atama."

She snorted with raised eyebrows and looked at him appalled but raised her glass. "Thanks for having me, Mamoru-baka."

He cringed but shrugged. "I guess I deserve that."

She giggled.

They talked a bit more, the kind of small talk that was safe, avoiding topics that made him stiffen again, and he avoided similar questions, too, not knowing that she was open like a book, and the sky above them turned slowly to a deep black, and the buildings around them started shining in fluorescent lights.

It was much later, when Usagi had gone inside, and he heard her brushing her teeth all the way from here, that Mamoru was left alone on the balcony, and he finally allowed himself to run his hands over his face with an agonized groan, trying his hardest to erase the image of Usagi moaning into her pizza from his mind.

 _This is just lust, you have cold feet. This is just lust, you have cold feet. It just seems you have eyes after all, it happens. It's nothing serious. This is just lust, you have cold feet._ It was his inner mantra. It would probably be his mantra for a while. Especially now that he'd gotten that just ignoring her existence and being rude to her would not help the situation, and on top of that was not exactly fair to Usagi who was utterly innocent in this mess, and which would make her living here not exactly nice for her.

His head hit the glass with a low thud and he scrunched his eyes shut, willing, _willing_ the mental imagery his head conjured up around the memorized sound of Usagi's moans to go _away_.

It was then that something black and soft suddenly landed painfully in his lap and he exclaimed in a high, sharp scream, half from surprise, half from the uncomfortable impact on his private parts, almost crashing the makeshift cardboard table in the process, and spilling cold coffee leftovers all over the empty pizza carton.

He yelped again, when the blob moved, until he understood, suddenly, that it was a black cat.

He blinked, surprised, looked around.

How the hell had a cat made it so far up?

He put down the cup, leaned forward and got up on his knees, and had to smile.

A cat!

"Hello, kitty," he cooed at her. "I'm sorry, you scared me. How did—"

He was silenced with a low, menacing hiss.

He only had time to fall back on his heels, rebounding in surprise, and yell a small, hushed "Wait—" before she bounded through the open balcony door and into his apartment.

But to his surprise, Usagi's voice coming from inside seemed not surprised at all…

"Luna!" he heard her admonishing call. And when he got up and walked inside, utterly bewildered, she'd scooped up the cat and it hopped onto her shoulder, tail swishing about her.

" _Wait_ ," he said, eyes wide and blinking, "is this _your_ cat?"

Her answering look was sheepish, and way too adorable. "…yeah."

He blinked again. Looked at the balcony. Looked at the cat. Had she… How…

"You didn't say anything about a cat…" he said, rather stupidly.

"Well she's not supposed to _be_ here…" Usagi said, lifting one shoulder, and the cat on it with it, then looked up at her rather helplessly.

"She lives with my parents," she said, looking at her cat not him, as if it would explain her sudden appearance in his apartment.

"Right," he said, and watched the black animal swish around Usagi's shoulder as if Usagi was her charge in need of protection – and was it just him, or did her eyes look a little bit accusing, the way the cat seemed to focus on him so intensely.

"Luna!" Usagi said, lifting her hand up to the kitty's little head. "What are you doing here?!"

For a weird, nonsensical second, he'd expected the cat to answer.

She didn't, of course.

Usagi shrugged. "She used to do that when I lived with my… uh… Ex, too…" She'd faltered a moment, frowning. It seemed like the word felt new to her, and slightly weird, and he swallowed the urge to ask a whole new set of questions. The ones he'd refrained himself from asking all night.

Usagi shook her head and hugged the cat close. It had jumped from her shoulders and into her arms very willingly. "She seems to find me anywhere I go," she said, smiling softly at the cat.

Then she looked up, suddenly, and he felt his gut throb at her gaze, those big eyes wide and open and addressing him with this startled look, as if she'd only just remembered something.

"I'll bring her home, don't worry, she won't—"

He shook his head abruptly.

"No," he said. "It's late. Don't worry…"

"You sure?"

"Yes." He nodded, and was gifted with a bright smile that took over her whole face.

"Ok. I'll bring her home tomorrow, I promise."

He nodded, and couldn't help the smile at the way the cat purred so deeply in Usagi's arms.

He cleared his throat. "Right, it's rather late, so…"

Usagi jumped, cat in her arms. "Right… um…"

She turned, only to turn back around to him, again, with a rather disarming smile he would have to add to the Do Not Think About pile. "Goodnight, Mamoru-baka."

"Goodnight, Odango Atama," he replied with a smile that turned into a smirk, when she wrinkled her nose so adorably at the term.

"Right… we'll have to go over nicknames again…" she mumbled, and with that, disappeared into her room, and shut the door behind her.

His hand flew over his mouth, muffling another groan.

_It's nothing serious. This is just lust, you have cold feet. It's nothing serious…_

It was when he rolled his shoulder back, exhaled deeply, started walking to turn in for the night as well, that he noticed… she'd never cleaned her stuff away out of the living room. And the balcony was still a mess, too.

He frowned, worked on the balcony first, and then began to pick Usagi's things up one by one, and unpacked the remaining bags strewn around the place and arranged all the random objects in one place for her.

He blinked at a way too colorful and childish travel mug. Who would ever buy such a thing? Was it a present for a child? He put it carefully on the coffee table, grouped it together with the anime edition soda cans, the panda shaped little bento box and… he blinked… was that a taiyaki maker in the form of a _Pokemon_ fish?! He shook his head. Surely, _surely_ she's invited to a kid's birthday party. Or several kids' birthday parties…

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go! Please let me know what you think!
> 
> This was: Getting to know. Next up: Getting to annoy. The living crap out of each other.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… just a quick note on working hours. I am very, very aware that doctors in many places of the world are notoriously overworked and have crazy working hours. But, since I am writing this, and it’s an AU anyway, why not also give him a life where it’s valued if the person who has literally got your life in their hand had enough sleep to be at their full concentration and productivity levels, eh? So yeah, we’re going the Swedish route, here. More to a 30 hour than a 50 hours week at full pay (and essentially the same productivity, cause y’know… happy doctor, well-rested doctor, work-life-balanced doctor = less-mistakes-doctor?) So yeah, in case you all come complaining to me about realism, lol – you know, something that IS very important to me. Just that in this regard I kinda wanna choose to depict the realism I wanna see be real? Real everywhere in the world. 
> 
> So yeah, thanks forever to Uglygreenjacket, who sacrifices her time to beta this for me!!
> 
> Anyway, on with the show! ; )

Usagi stormed into Makoto’s café with all the pent up irritation and frustration of the little red angry guy from that movie about the emotions sitting at a control panel in your brain she’d loved to watch but forgot the name of, and plopped down next to Rei with somewhat of a little growl.

 

Thankfully, Mako-chan came immediately to the rescue, and set before her the prettiest piece of luscious cake she’d ever seen.

 

Usagi almost teared up.

 

“I love you,” she whispered, and Makoto chuckled, not really knowing if Usagi was addressing the cake or her, and not sure if Usagi herself really knew either.

 

“C’mon,” Rei huffed. “How bad can it be.”

 

Usagi threw her a withering stare, fork already deeply buried into cream and sponge cake layers, and popping the ornate piece of crafted chocolate that had stuck in her caramelized crème brûlée-ish top cream layer into her mouth, moaning when it melted on her tongue, despite her irritation.

 

“You’re not taking me seriously anymore,” Usagi said in a whiny noise around a mouthful of her first bite of creamy, amazing, tart, and heavenly Mako-chan-cake.

 

“Of course we don’t,” Rei said at the same time that Ami said, “Of course we do!”

 

But Ami hadn’t looked up from her textbook to say so, and Rei was staring her down, so Rei’s claim kinda seemed the more honest of the two.

 

Usagi hrmped a little into her cake, and Ami absentmindedly grabbed another of Mako-chan’s infamous little tea-sandwiches off the fancy, three-tiered fine bone china etagere with the rose pattern and the gold edging, and stuffed it into her mouth without even looking.

 

“I watched him _iron_ his underwear yesterday. _His underwear_ ,” Usagi lamented.

 

Rei rolled her eyes, shook her head slowly, and filled the empty glass next to her – save for one lone strawberry – up with bubbly wine that she lifted from its cooler.

 

As if on cue, but Rei had probably just seen her coming, Minako stormed into the little café like a glamorous little hurricane, cat eye sunglasses looking spectacular perched on her nose, hand on her swinging hip.

 

“Guess who got the job!” Minako exclaimed upon reaching them, and the girls erupted in a mild answering cheer, to the withering stares of the other patrons trying to enjoy their breakfast, and Makoto scolded the girls absentmindedly from behind the counter.

 

Minako sat down with a flare, lifted her glass and clinked it first against Ami’s coffee cup still on its saucer, then with Rei’s champagne flute (Usagi was busy blissfully eating the paradise of a cake, albeit still irritated).

 

The strawberry in Minako’s glass shook a little when she held it up and said, chest puffed up, “Say hello to the new ‘third girl from the right’ in the new Hi-Chew commercial!”

 

The girls whooped again, but Minako fixed Usagi with a look when her cheer turned out not to be as enthusiastic as usual.

 

“Did he clean the oven grill on a Friday night again?” Minako said, amused.

 

“Ugh!” Usagi grumbled. “Don’t remind me!”

 

Her shoulders slumped with a huff, as she inhaled the last bite of her cake with equal parts of bliss and mourning.

 

She’d been living with Mamoru for six and a half weeks now, and it turned out, Mamoru might be the single most infuriating person on the planet.

 

He lived the life of a 45 year-old _boring_ bachelor. Well… almost bachelor (and she had _yet_ to meet that woman!). No matter what time his shift ended, when he was home in the mornings – _even his definite free Tuesdays_ –  he got up at the same _way too early_ time every morning, went for a jog, then showered, and read his newspaper to his boring morning coffee before leaving the house at the same time every time.  And every time he would come home from a shift, he would wash up, do his laundry, read. Wednesday nights he reads for leisure for longer than on any other day, Thursday nights and Sunday afternoons he would leave the house at the same time every week for his scheduled dates with his girlfriend (fiancée, people liked to correct her whenever she ranted about this, and she would wave the comment off with a flick of her wrist) where he would spend the night. The same. _Always_.

 

He bought the same things at the supermarket, he organized his pantry cupboard _alphabetically_ , he ironed his clothes at the same time every Tuesday night, and he _always_ washed _and_ cut his plastics into small chunks before he recycled them. It was driving her insane to watch. And trying to get him to break out of his routine only _sometimes_ felt like pulling teeth.

 

That time she’d hid his morning newspaper and tried to get him to come out for pancakes, it felt like she’d tried to abuse him for all the fuss he’d made.

 

And eating dinners together that weren’t his always-the-same dishes at always the same time, on the _balcony_ no less? As if she made him sell his soul to a moneylender.

 

And _god forbid_ , the first time she’d had Minako over to watch _The Bachelor Japan_ with her on his fancy ass TV, and he behaved as if she’d murdered him.

 

Or last Saturday, when Minako had insisted they all get ready together at her place for a night of dancing and cheap highballs and Mamoru had locked himself in the bathroom.

 

 _And he kept putting away all her stuff._ Jeeze, she was gonna do that herself, if he just like, _ever_ gave her a day time for it without doing it himself within _minutes_ and arguing about it.

 

“I swear the only not scheduled slot in his life is Motoki,” Usagi huffed. Sometimes he just dropped by the apartment and it drove Mamoru nuts when he did, and Usagi really had no idea how those two could have ever become friends in the first place, much less live together for so long.

 

“So, am I still banned, or can I come by and watch Terrace House tonight,” Minako said, grabbing a pancake off the giant stack in the middle of the table and piling it onto her plate, completely changing the subject.

 

Usagi shrugged. “He’s got a night shift, anyway. So, what he doesn’t know…”

 

Minako nodded in triumph, just as Makoto came with more cake.

 

“Anyway,” Minako said, and slid a little, rectangular piece of colored cardboard across the table, that took Usagi a second until she recognized it as a business card… and her eyes were already widening as she ripped it from the table and under her nose with a disbelieving shriek.

 

“Guess who got you a slot with the hottest patisseur in town?” Minako winked, just as Makoto placed another slice in front of Usagi, huffing indignantly,

 

“ _I’m_ the hottest patisseur in town!”

 

L

 

Had he thought she was adorable? Had he thought he was in lust?

 

She was a nightmare. She was a disaster. She was the most annoying person in the universe and she was driving him _insane_.

 

She did _everything_ that drove him up the wall. _Every single thing_. And every time he looked for his stuff that was buried under candy wrappers, and unidentified oozy substances stuck to his belongings and his coffee mug, and he found long strands of blonde hair in every crack and crevice, and as much as he tried to ignore the fact of how much he loved her hair on her _head_ , in the drain and in every corner of the apartment, it was an _altogether different matter_. She left empty milk containers in the fridge, whenever he opened any of his _many_ bathroom cabinets he would be attacked by the sheer amount of _hair product_ that was stuffed in so tight it fell out the moment anyone so much as breathed in the room. _And how can anyone sleep_ that _much?!_

 

So, when he came home that noon, tired and cranky from a very late night shift that had gone horribly wrong on many accounts, and he was greeted with half empty champagne flutes on his cherry wood antique coffee table _without_ _coasters_ , empty ice cream cartons melting gooey next to those, and he just _knew_ from the amount of popcorn strewn around his rug that the smell would take days to get out, he wanted to scream.

 

Instead, he pursed his lips, turned on the spot, and followed his routine.

 

With irritated, frustrated movements, he walked into his room, emptied his hamper in too strong motions, swore under his breath when he heard a little rip, and stalked into the bathroom to load the washer with his scrubs, including the ones he wore.

 

The shower got the edge off his shoulders a little, but when he padded into the kitchen much later, gnawing his teeth at the bubbly, simple music coming from the next room, intent on drowning his irritation in coffee, he growled right out, when he lifted his mug and it came off the counter with a horrid smacking sound... and he stomped off into her doorway, telling himself that's it, she's gotta move out next month, this is ridiculous and yet...

 

Then he stood there, frozen in place, all the anger evaporating all at once, and she lay there upside down with a thick, cheap manga lifted in front of her face as she half hung off her bed, hair flopping to the floor, giggling and...

 

He couldn't. _Again_.

 

She flicked her eyes – gorgeous, blue, _giant_ eyes – up to him, noticing him in his doorway, and shot him this quick, honest, _pure_ Usagi smile and he...

 

She threw him a look, blinking expectantly.

 

"Uh," he started, clearing his throat. "Do you... um. Want to have dinner on the balcony tonight?"

 

Her answering smile felt like someone turned the frigging _lights_ on and it did funny things to his insides that he swallowed down and ignored.

 

“Sure!!” she yelped, excitedly, whipping her head in his direction as she turned on the bed.

 

He walked back out, backwards, as if recoiling from the sheer intensity of that smile.

 

And, back in the living room, he started cleaning with a sigh.

 

His hands went back to twitching in irritation when he noticed the sticky popcorn, drenched in melted caramel ice cream, that stuck to his remote control.

 

“Leave it, I’m gonna clean that up later,” came the call from her room, and his irritation was back in full swing.

 

She _always_ says that but _never_ does.

 

And suddenly, she was beside him, all endless legs and endless energy that she _never used for cleaning up her messes_.

 

He grumbled, held the remote control up in accusation.

 

“Bad day?” she asked, completely ignoring the device.

 

He exhaled with a growl. “Worst.”

 

She plopped down on the couch, not lending a hand whatsoever. In fact, he wasn’t even sure she _noticed_ he was cleaning. As if there was a blind spot in her brain that kept her from perceiving the mess she left behind in the first place, or anything to do with cleaning.

 

“Well, we could do something nice!” she said with that awfully bright smile of hers.

 

“Your idea of nice is Minako Aino.”

 

She rolled her eyes, ignored the comment. Then she sat up straight, her eyes taking on that gleaming joy he both feared and… well, feared differently. “I know!” she exclaimed. “We could build a pillow fort!”

 

He snorted, picked up the last bit of clutter, and walked away. “Yeah, right,” he said, walking into the kitchen.

 

“C’mooon,” she whined, trailing after him. “It’ll be fun!”

 

He shook his head with a roll of his eyes, put her mess on the counter, and opened the dishwasher. “Just… let’s have gyudon on the balcony later, alright?”

 

She pursed her lips, then sighed.

 

“Does it have to be gyudon?” she said with a pout.

 

He blinked. “It’s Saturday!”

 

She scowled at him. “C’moooon. _One_ Saturday. Something different for _one_ Saturday.”

 

He was utterly confused. But… she’d liked it so much the first times he’d made it for her?

 

“But we have everything for it here!” he said.

 

“Then we’ll go to the supermarket!” she said brightly.

 

“NO!” he almost yelped, vividly reminded of the Two Hours of Terror he’d spent in a supermarket with her just last week, which was meant to be a quick trip, but she couldn’t decide and ended up buying half the store, some of which was rotting away in his fridge right now and she wouldn’t let him throw out, because she claimed she would still eat it.

 

“Fiiine,” she grumbled, crossed her arms, and stormed from the kitchen.

 

He sighed, rolled his eyes, went back to loading the dishwasher.

 

A little later, he settled on the couch with his book, flipped the page where he’d bookmarked it and leaned back against the cushions, trying to ignore Usagi fully.

 

For the next hour or two, she stalked grumpily through the apartment. Put the music on (too loud) and off again, typed furiously into her laptop, huffed and sighed and grunted.

 

It was when she, grumpy and loud, carried a bunch of laundry through the apartment and into the bathroom behind him, back and fro, back and fro, each time louder than the last, and cursed loudly when, obviously, something slipped from her grip as she loaded the washing machine, and stalked back _even grumpier_ , that he exhaled theatrically and dropped his book.

 

“ _FINE_ ,” he almost yelled, annoyed. “ _I’ll_ go. What do you want!”

 

Her mood, _of course_ , switched immediately. “ICE CREAM!” she yelled back, excitedly, and came bounding into the living room with a spring to her step.

 

“We’re not eating ice cream for dinner,” he grumped.

 

She pouted.  “Fine. Something other than gyudon, then.”

 

He rolled his eyes. “You don’t even know what you want?”

 

“NOT gyudon.”

 

He ended up getting simple oden from the conbini downstairs, the shortest trip ever, but when he was back up, there was a pillow fort in his living room.

 

“ODANGO.”

 

“WHAT?!”

 

He sighed so hard it hurt his throat.

 

She’d pushed the couches around and the coffee table away, put all the throw pillows and actual pillows they both owned combined in the middle of it, including the sofa cushions, and both their comforters were thrown across as a roof above, held on one side by his big stand mirror that had apparently made the trip from his bedroom into the living room, along with all his sheets and bedding – she’d even hung up one of her string lights inside. _How_?! He’d been gone five minutes!

 

He would drop dead before admitting it was a rather fabulous pillow fort, though, and grumbled instead.

 

And the way she sat in there, on his pillow, grinning in this smug, entirely too sexy way, and wiggled her finger for him to come inside…

 

He froze for a second. For a second, it felt like he was gonna lose himself if he entered this little mountain of fluff.

 

He shook his head, shook out of it, and lowered himself to his knees, handed her one bowl of oden and a pair of chopsticks, and crawled inside.

 

Nevertheless, he sat as far away from her in this thing as possible in the small, cramped, soft place.

 

He had to chuckle, when just as he’d finally snuggled in, opened the lid of his bowl and put it safely away, and started to eat, she’d already devoured pretty much half of hers.

 

And she _moaned_ into her food again.

 

It stirred in him, and he almost growled in his attempt to hide his blush ,as well as the other places his blood rushed into, and he thought he’d be used to this after almost seven weeks of it by now, but it seemed he was a hopeless case.

 

“First oden of the season is always the best,” she mumbled appreciatively, and he blinked. It _was_ almost autumn now, wasn’t it? It had cooled down, and the leaves were turning colors.

 

“I would totally get my camera if I hadn’t already made like, tons of oden videos,” she said, and he laughed. He bet she had.

 

But she did get her phone out, and he stiffened a little, like he always did in close proximity to photo taking devices.

 

She shifted – next to him, _too_ _close_ , _way_ too close – and he involuntarily held his breath when her leg touched his and she angled her phone farther away to catch them both as well as the pillow fort, then held her oden up.

 

He pressed his lips together.

 

“C’moooon,” she whined, jabbed him in the ribs, causing him to wobble away from her and back to her a little. “Hold up your oden, help me catch this memory!”

 

He sighed, held up his oden, and she beamed into the camera so _unbelievably_ authentically it made no _sense_ to him whatsoever, and he had to snort. It was the moment she took the photo.

 

She beamed at the photo, held it up for him for inspection.

 

He raised his eyebrow. He looked like a condescending douche in it. So, probably accurate.

 

Then she moved away from him again, and he was both relieved and somehow mourned it like a loss. It made him frown. _Saori_. _Saori_. _Saori_. Back to reminders. Safe, nice, stable _Saori_.

 

“Hey, we can pin that to the door!” Usagi said happily.

 

“ _No_ way,” Mamoru said, chuckling.

 

“ _C’moooon_. Like a name tag. Just, you know, with our faces.”

 

He shook his head, slowly, and she pouted, but then leaned over.

 

He had to hold his breath again. She leaned right over him and his outstretched legs, to set her empty bowl of oden outside their temporary, childish sanctuary.

 

“Soooo,” she said, with a slow, way too pretty smile. “Ice cream, _now_?”

 

He chuckled, shook his head. “I didn’t buy any.”

 

She glared at him, but then her face lighted up again immediately. He smirked. Her emotions were an open book. “I still have the rest of Minako’s caramel swirl ice cream!” she exclaimed, moved to her knees and leant back over his feet.

 

“You left that on the counter last night. It melted away, I cleaned it up earlier,” Mamoru said, then bit into a piece of ebi tempura in his oden.

 

Back to pouting. Horrified, mourning pouting, this time, and he chuckled again, and earned a little kick to his legs, as she huffed and let herself fall back against the pillows, her head bouncing off the cushions a little.

 

He averted his eyes, put his half-eaten bowl into her empty one, and pushed it further away, where it could not be accidentally kicked over.

 

He had to smile at the way her fingers tugged at his pant leg, urging him to lie down, too.

 

It took him a while until he relented – the pillow fort was not the biggest. He would be lying directly next to her.

 

He held his breath when he finally did. Blinked at the way it looked even prettier from this angle.

 

They looked up directly at her comforter, the stars and moons and bunnies on it a backdrop for the string lights that hung towards them, crossing this way and that. It looked like the imaginative night sky someone might have painted into a kid’s movie. It was sweet, if utterly kitschy, and it gave off a warm light, slightly purple in hue from the print of her comforter.

 

“C’mon, admit you like it,” Usagi said, all cheek, right next to him. “You enjoy this.”

 

He chuckled, dry and heaving, and it moved up his chest and rocked the pillows a bit. He shook his head.

 

“C’moooon, admit iiiit,” she whined, if playfully.

 

He rolled his eyes, stubbornly looking ahead and up at the string lights, but relented. “It is a rather nice pillow fort.”

 

She grinned. “Best you’ve ever had?”

 

He shrugged. Easily so, since… “Well, since it’s the _first_ I’ve ever had… Yes, best I’ve ever had.”

 

She whipped her head at him, appalled, ready to explode, and then… almost recoiled, and her eyes turned sad as she slowly turned her face back up to their fake night sky.

 

He blinked, confused about the change in mood.

 

“Ne, Mamo-chan?”

 

He blinked. Not ready to admit he liked the sound of that new nickname, and definitely preferred it over “Baka”.

 

“Yes?”

 

“I have a confession to make,” she said, and turned her face back to him.

 

His heart skipped a beat at her words, and he turned his face towards her as well. She was close like this. Illuminated by the soft light of her string lights and the purple glow that came from the reflection of her comforter. He could feel her breath on his lips, they lay so close, cheeks against the same, soft pillow, and he held his breath in answer, but nodded for her to go on.

 

His heart was beating fast, not sure what was to come, but strangely… It beat even faster yet, and he watched her lips as she spoke her confession.

 

He started, when it was something entirely else than he would not admit he had anticipated.

 

“I know about your parents,” she said, looking absolutely apologetic.

 

He blinked at her for a second.

 

Her look took a rather horrified shade. “I’m so sorry, I asked Motoki early on.”

 

He frowned, suddenly remembering the day she’d come home from a party they’d both been invited to but he didn’t go to (as always), and she’d acted so strange, so careful around him, had made her friend Makoto come over to make Usagi’s favorite childhood dish for him, and burst into tears when he admitted he’d never gone skiing to Okinawa as a child like she had done, and he’d been so absolutely bewildered at her inexplicable anguish over the fact, half prepared to offer going to Okinawa next winter if she was so passionate about it…

 

He blinked again. “That… explains a lot,” he smirked.

 

She whipped her head back to him, surprised. “You’re not mad?”

 

He shrugged, a little self-consciously. He felt he would have minded had it been anyone else, but…

 

“Saves me the trouble to talk about it myself?” he said lamely.

 

But she nodded, more to herself, and it looked rather adorable, and he had to look away.

 

“Ne, Mamo-chan?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Have been alone a lot?”

 

He blinked. Of course, yes, as a child. Then he’d met Saori, and later, Motoki, to give him company when he needed it – which he did enjoy, of course he did. But he still enjoyed the solitude, actually. Rather much apparently, at least it explained his reluctance to let Saori move in. He was used to solitude, it comforted him. And yet, there was something here, right now, that comforted him even more than any solitude ever had.

 

“Well,” he said, turning his head back to her, watched the reflection of the string lights play across those gorgeous, big blue eyes, so very up close. He swallowed, not really knowing what he was saying when he said. “I’m not alone, now.”

 

She smiled. “No. No, you’re not.”

 

He licked his lips, heart in his throat, and turned his head back to the stars of her comforter. He had to, or else…

 

He had no idea why his heart was beating so fast as it was, but he was doing his best to calm it down.

 

And when he turned back to her, finally, way later, her eyes were closed, cheek resting on the pillow like a soft, beautiful pearl in a cushion, her lips ever so slightly open, and her breathing deep.

 

He felt a shiver at the sight, a throb in his heart, in his throat. And he knew it was creepy, but he settled fully onto his side – not touching. _No_ touching. No, no. – pushed his hand under his own cheek and watched her sleep.

 

It was much later that he realized he’d fallen asleep, too, when he was woken up by a shrill beeping and Usagi’s feet thundering across his wooden floors.

 

“No, no, no, no, noooo,” she yelped, and his eyes widened in horror, when he crawled out from the pillow fort, and saw the white little puffs and whiffs of soapy foam, like little clouds, that filled the view of his hallway when she wrenched open the bathroom door.

 

“ _Stupid, stupid washing machine, why—”_ she yelped all the while, and his stomach plummeted.

 

“What did you _do_?” he cried after her, scrambling to his feet.

 

 _Ughhhh._ She was a nightmare. She was a disaster. She was the most annoying person in the universe and she was driving him _insane_.


	5. Chapter 5

He exited the elevator with a sigh, ready to get out of his scrubs and crawl into bed.

 

His shift hadn’t been particularly hard. In fact, the ER had been almost deserted, resulting in him being sent home rather early this morning. And yet, he felt absolutely railroaded. It would be a while until he would get fully used to night shifts.

 

His eyebrows met his hairline, when he found the photo Usagi had taken in the pillow fort of them pinned to their door.

 

She’d printed it out in Instax format. The little white portion beneath it said “Welcome!” with a bunny doodle and a grumpy face next to it.

 

He was pretty sure who of them was supposed to be the grumpy face.

 

He rolled his eyes, took the photo off the door, and unlocked it.

 

The photo went inside, instead. He somehow couldn’t crumble it, couldn’t trash it, and so he tucked it into the corner of the picture frame in the genkan, instead.

 

The art print of the rising Earth seen from the Moon, that he’d gotten from the Space Museum that one time, now had a little, happy Usagi and condescendingly snorting Mamoru stuck to its side.

 

He looked at it for a second, frowning at the feelings the combination gave him, and shook it off, before bending down to slip off his shoes.

 

The apartment was quiet, for once. Usagi’s door was closed, and the balcony door open. A little breeze shook the curtains, and they billowed out into the living room as if performing a gentle, little dance.

 

Pretty sure that Usagi was still asleep, he went about his morning routine. The shower felt like a blessing, and he stood under it a little while longer, letting the hot water beat out some of the kinks in his shoulders, and even contemplated going into the bath for a little while, but decided against it, and instead, carried his laundry back and forth with just a towel around his waist, for once.

 

It was 8:30. No way Usagi would come rushing out her room at this hour, and besides, it wasn’t really scandalous, was it?

 

She didn’t, of course. And by the time he was dressed, even when taking his time, the apartment was still quiet.

 

He frowned. Somehow, the peace and quiet suddenly felt wrong. As if he was waiting for it to be… louder.

 

He shook the feeling off, and instead, went to unpack the rather big cardboard boxes he’d settled against one wall of the living room the previous night. He’d got them delivered the day before, but because they’d arrived rather late in the day, he hadn’t had the time to unpack before his shift started.

 

He frowned at himself again, when he caught himself being not very quiet in ripping the cardboard of the new furniture, and found himself listening for any cues of movement in Usagi’s room.

 

He sighed when there was none.

 

Out first came an ornate, white iron chair.

 

He supposed, if they spent so much time on the balcony right now, they really ought to have some furniture on it. And also, it was maybe the most cute and dainty looking furniture he’d ever bought.

 

He didn’t want to make a show of it. But he did feel rather disappointed she apparently hadn’t peeked into the boxes, and that he didn’t see her reaction as he unpacked them.

 

For a moment, he stilled. Contemplating to wait with the rest, but then shook his head at himself, and ripped the cardboard away faster, then carried the two slim chairs and matching narrow table, one by one, out onto the balcony.

 

One cardboard box to go and its content went into the bathroom.

 

And when he was done, and proceeded to first cut the cardboard, save one box, into little strips, and then loaded it all into the bottom half of the smallest of the boxes that he’d left untouched, he almost jumped, when something black appeared at his side.

 

Luna sat down daintily in the top half of the box. The one he’d been reaching for to close the former up.

 

He sighed, held his hand to his chest in reflex of the sudden fright. “Why do you have to keep scaring me so, cat?” he said, exhaling, and then reached out to scratch her under the chin, but she hissed at him.

 

He sighed. “I’m a cat person, you know,” he said to her, almost mournful, and caught himself at it, shaking his head.

 

 _You’re not talking to cats yet, Chiba. You won’t_.

 

He shooed her out of the box, receiving another hiss, and closed up the strips of paper, and stored it with the trash to bring out when it was the paper’s turn in his apartment complex’s recycle rotary.

 

Luna, for once, followed him around. And he smiled. Maybe she was warming up to him after all.

 

He liked the thought.

 

So, when she followed him into the kitchen, he didn’t even think to shoo her off the foldable table, as she settled on top of his morning paper.

 

Mamoru set about to grind his coffee beans, inhaling the fresh smell eagerly, and bit his lip as not to smile, when, after he turned off the rather loud machine, he heard movement in Usagi’s room. He took out a mug, settled it beneath his coffee machine, transferred the freshly ground beans into the filter, and pushed the power button. It rattled to life and gurgled out dark brown liquid.

 

He groaned, when he opened up the drawer for a spoon, and found the small compartment for them empty. Almost all the cutlery was depleted, most of it dirty in the sink and not the dishwasher, and there was no spoon for his coffee – and indicating by the newly updated ranking for the current season of the Bachelor Japan tacked to his fridge (complete with little stickers of Usagi’s and Minako’s faces on who was in the lead in betting on poor women looking for love - apparently Minako knew all about love and seemed to be winning) he was pretty sure he’d find some of the missing spoons strewn around the place in empty ice cream containers.

 

She came in in her pajamas, disheveled as always, her hair down and messy and adorable and he took a sip from his coffee to hide his smile and looked away.

 

Usagi started at the view of him, sitting at the small, narrow kitchen table, Luna on the table and a fork in his coffee cup.

 

She blinked, for just a dumbfounded little second, and then started forward and picked up the cat with both hands and cuddled her to her chest.  “ _Lunaaa_ ,” Usagi cooed in greeting, as if talking to a baby, and as if the cat _didn’t_ show up almost every other day, no matter how often Usagi carried her back across Juuban, and sure enough, Luna immediately started purring.

 

Mamoru rolled his eyes. Of course, _now_ she purrs. But he watched, wordlessly, as Usagi carried her cat around the kitchen and mumbled little nothings to her, while she opened the fridge and got out one of the Tetra Pak smoothies that Mamoru had no clue how anyone could like, and an equally dubious looking jumbo pack of cherry flavored yoghurt – before opening up the drawer and cursing at the lack of spoons.

 

Mamoru snorted into his coffee, and earned a glare, but it was worth it.

 

And he couldn’t help from smiling again, when Usagi sat down on the stool opposite of him with his smallest ladle in her yogurt and her cat purring away in her lap.

 

And it felt kind of domestic, both of them doing an equivalent of eating breakfast together in silence, with a cat that technically wasn’t allowed in this apartment building.

 

It felt so nice he almost mourned it when she, a little later, hopped off her stool, asking if he’d already showered, and at his nod, proclaiming to claim the bathroom then.

 

“Oh, and,” Usagi said, returning just a second later with a USB-Stick in her hand, and threw it in his direction.

 

He caught it by bending to the side completely. Her aim was terrible.

 

“Motoki dropped this off last night,” she said, already leaving again, “needs you to proofread!”

 

He nodded, rolled his eyes. Motoki had already sent him three emails about this last night. He had night shifts, if Motoki pulled his deadlines or not. With a huff, he turned back to the paper.

 

And then startled, when he heard the bathroom door click shut, and Usagi move around in it, and he realized for the first time since living in this apartment, how thin the wall between the kitchen and the bathroom really was.

 

He found himself holding his breath, scrunching his eyes shut. Heard her feet shuffle and he knew, _he knew_ she was undressing in there. He only exhaled when the water turned on, and he dropped his elbows on the table and his head into his hands and buried his fingers into his head as he pulled at the strands.

 

_You’re engaged, and here you are, listening to your roommate shower._

 

And was he imagining it, or was Luna suddenly looking at him so deeply judgmental, from her newly reclaimed perch at the table?

 

At least it looked like it, when he lifted his head, still in his hands, and Luna sat right in front of it, sniffing at him almost disgustedly.

 

He sighed. “Yeah, me too, Luna. Me, too.”

 

 _Lust_. His head screamed, probably for the millionth time. _It’s just lust_.

 

Luna hopped off the table, as if having enough of him, and he could absolutely relate.

 

He exhaled deeply, yet… even when he knew he should, he didn’t move away from that darned wall, instead he made another coffee, taking his time, making as much noise as he could to drown out the noise from the shower and where his head went with it, but settled back at the foldable table that was attached to the Devil Wall nonetheless.

 

He nearly fell of his stool, and definitely spilled his coffee, when, a while later, Usagi appeared in the doorway in only an oversized towel. A towel she seemed to _think_ that fully covered her, yet he could see the droplets of water that collected in her collarbone and…

 

“Did you buy a litter box?” Usagi asked, eyes wide in surprise.

 

He blinked. He hadn’t heard a single word she’d said.

 

“…what?”

 

“In the bathroom! There’s a cat litter box!” she repeated.

 

“Um…”

 

He swallowed. There was a little bead of water, the tiniest drop, travelling from her collarbone down in between… and the towel…

 

Usagi blinked at him, waiting for an answer.

 

It was too much. He bolted.

 

“Um, I forgot something, um, at—”

 

He didn’t even finish the sentence. And he closed his eyes tight when he brushed by her, and a bit of wet, golden hair brushed against his hand, before he bolted from the apartment.

 

* * *

 

 

It was hours before he returned home, a bag of cat litter and groceries in tow.

 

And when he did, her reflectors were deposited around one of the couches, and so was one of her tripods and the laptop, with Usagi in front, talking into the camera.

 

She threw him a smile, and he nodded.

 

Seems disappearing into his room was a viable solution after all, and pretending nothing had happened – which was also the truth – too.

 

He dropped the bag of cat litter in the bathroom first, stacked the groceries in the fridge, and then went to pass out on his bed, finally.

 

He fell on his back and exhaled. And started – once more, beating himself up. It was just a friggin’ towel. And yet it ran and ran and ran through his mind, as if on auto-pilot.

 

He’d gone to the library. Attempted to work a little on his dissertation while he was there, at least read up on some research reviews. But after he’d spent half an hour reading the same sentence, he’d started contemplating to just maybe go to Saori’s.

 

He’d shooed the thought immediately, and in all honesty, it was the thing that made him feel most guilty in this whole situation.

 

He’d almost gone to his fiancée horny as fuck over another woman.

 

Even worse was, that before he’d felt guilty about it, before what was happening in his brain had clicked in all its cruelty, his first thought had not been … you can’t go to Saori because this is vile. It had been, you can’t go to Saori, because she’s at work at this hour of the day.

 

He was a despicable, despicable person.

 

It had just been a thought, just a second, but Mamoru knew it had been there.

 

It had calmed him considerably, though, when he’d finally been able to concentrate, and actually managed to get some work in.

 

“ _Sooo_ ,” Usagi said, appearing in his doorway, and he jumped, startled, “it _was_ you who bought the cat litter box.”

 

He rolled his eyes. “Of course, it was me. Who else would it have been?”

 

She shrugged, mumbled something about him being weird about it that he didn’t fully catch, and then, in going, said, “by the way, the girls are coming over tonight.”

 

He blinked. Looked at the door. He couldn’t really run _twice_ in a day, now could he?

 

“Minako is still banned,” he said, rather lamely.

 

It was the moment the doorbell rang, and he groaned. Obviously tonight meant _right now_.

 

Usagi shrugged with an apologetic smile. “We’re gonna cook and watch a movie, wanna join us?”

 

“No,” he said with an exasperated sigh, as Usagi traipsed out of his room to answer the door.

 

Of course, 30 minutes later found him chopping onions in the kitchen, and ‘cooking together’ obviously meant crowding in the kitchen while they watched Makoto cook and him and Ami chop.

 

His kitchen was too small for this, and he really didn’t know how this was even happening to him.

 

And being under Minako’s continued 20 questions didn’t really help either. Not that he wasn’t used to this by now. At least, this time, he could avoid being alone in a room with her.

 

“Good dancer?” was her next question.

 

He shrugged. “Kind of.”

 

Makoto and Minako both nodded at each other, apparently, he’d passed another test, and he rolled his eyes, scraping onion pieces into the bowl in front of him and then started to peel the reddish, dry skin of the next one.

 

“Rain or snow?”

 

He frowned. “… I like both.” These questions were becoming weirder and weirder.

 

Rei, next to him, reached for the cabinet just above him, and he ducked dutifully to let her open the cupboard and extract the only six long stemmed glasses that he owned, then nodded her towards the drawer when she asked for a bottle opener.

 

“Can you cook?” Minako asked next, leaning with her elbow on the foldable kitchen table, one leg dangling over the other.

 

He paused his cutting with a sigh.  “I’m cooking right now, aren’t I?”

 

“You’re chopping,” came both Minako’s and Makoto’s reply, at the same time that Usagi mumbled, “He cooks all the time, you know that.”

 

Minako and Makoto seemed to be the ones most into this interrogation.

 

Minako rolled her eyes dramatically, and uncrossed her legs and crossed them again, the other leg now dangling more erratically than the former had done. “I didn’t ask if he does cook, I asked if he can cook. There’s a difference.”

 

Makoto nodded vigorously, and carefully sprinkled flour into the browned butter in his pot.

 

“Not as good as Makoto,” he answered with a sigh, and sliced his knife into the second half of his third onion. His eyes were starting to burn, and he sniffed and blinked.

 

“Do you want to switch?” Ami, next to him, offered, her cutting board filled with carrots, artichoke hearts, and bell peppers.

 

He smiled at her, leaning away from the onions, and shook his head. Ah, Ami-san. She was the best of Usagi’s friends, in his opinion. And the only one he wasn’t secretly afraid of.

 

Rei poured the rich, red wine she’d brought with her into the glasses on by one and placed the last one next to him. Even before Ami had called, “ _Kampai_!” into the group and the girls had raised all the glasses, he’d stopped his chopping and took a rather big chug of the fruity, acidic drink.

 

He transferred the last of the cut onions into the bowl, and reached for the ginger, peeling it carefully.

 

“What's on your nightstand?” Minako piped in, next, after settling her glass back on the table _next_ to the _bloody coaster_.

 

 He rolled his eyes. As if she and Usagi didn’t collectively go in there snooping on a routine basis every time she was here, and Mamoru was out.

 

“A few books. My alarm, my glasses.”

 

“Which book are you reading right now?” Ami asked next to him, interested.

 

He half turned to her, cutting off the wilted, dry ends of the ginger and the fresh yellow juice came at him with a sharp, fresh smell. “Um,” he started, “I just started Kolbert’s ‘The Sixth Extinction’?”

 

“Oh?” Ami looked up at him, somewhat delighted. “How are you finding it?”

 

He smiled. “Actually?” he threw her a look, “Surprisingly entertaining for a subject so dire. I’d thought she’d—”

 

“Right,” Minako called, interrupting, and Ami threw him an apologetic smile. “Next question. Christmas or Valentine's day?”

 

He shrugged at Ami and smiled in reassurance. She’d tried to get him out of this, and he appreciated the sentiment anyway.

 

He answered with a sigh, and graded the ginger into the onion bowl. “Neither, honestly?”

 

“You need to pick one,” Minako admonished. “It’s the rules.”

 

He rolled his eyes but relented. “Christmas, probably? But I’m not a fan of both, really.”

 

Both Makoto and Minako threw him a frown. He cringed. Guessed he lost this round.

 

The next question came way too nonchalant, as Minako inspected her nails.

 

“Give oral or receive oral?”

 

He blinked. His hand flew back to his wine glass.

 

“Minako!” the girls around him erupted, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see Usagi blush and her forehead hit the table in embarrassment.

 

At least she was suffering as well, he guessed?

 

He took another large sip.

 

But then Usagi started giggling, and hide her mouth behind her hands, and he guessed he was alone in his suffering after all.

 

“Oh, c'mon, just asking!” Minako smirked.

 

He chose to remain silent either way, and Minako replaced the question with a ‘ _fiiine_ ,’ and a roll of her eyes.

 

“What fairytale character are you most like?”

 

He reached for the garlic, started peeling. “Maybe Pinocchio,” he answered, frowning, and immediately felt both Ami’s and Makoto’s eyes on him, and saw Usagi cock her head sideways.

 

He ducked.

 

This time, he was almost relieved to get the next question.

 

“Do you own a beret?”

 

He shook his head in bewilderment. “No?”

 

Minako nodded with a self-satisfied look. Guess he’d answered right.

 

“How many Darumas with only one painted eye do you own?”

 

“One,” he answered, without having to think about it. But obviously too quickly, because the same eyes returned to scrutinize him, and he ducked a little, again, as he reached once more for the grader.

 

“Do you make chocolates for White Day?” Minako asked next.

 

“Yes,” he answered. And since all the girls now nodded in approval, he guessed he was back to doing well in this strange interrogation that Minako did with him way too often for his liking.

 

Rei topped up his glass. He took another sip.

 

“Your most interesting friend?”

 

He answered without thinking, glass still raised to his lips. “Usagi,” he said, and regretted it immediately.

 

“What?” Minako yelped excitedly at the same time that Usagi mumbled a surprised “Huh?”

 

Once again, Ami came to his rescue, as she piped in another question, to Minako’s outraged outcry.

 

The rule was: No need to answer follow-up questions if the next question is already asked.

 

“What's a movie that made you think the hardest?” she asked, quickly and quietly.

 

He swallowed, threw her a grateful look. “Does a series count?” he asked her, and she nodded with a smile.

 

“Black Mirror,” he said.

 

“Best fictional hero?” It was Makoto’s voice this time, wooden spoon raised to her nose as she inhaled.

 

“Robin Hood,” he said, and received happy nods of approval. He rolled his eyes at himself for the way it did feel kind of nice to receive those.

 

“Ever made a dick pic?” Minako, of course, and Rei jabbed her in the ribs.

 

He snorted. “No.”

 

The girls were back to scolding, but Minako talked right over them.

 

“How long would it take me to search for your porn folder on your laptop?”

 

He groaned and brought his hand to rub from his forehead over his eyes with a sigh, to a loud chorus of “ _MINAKO_!”

 

“ _Fiiiine_ ,” she said with a huff, and replaced the question. The next one came with a smirk, and he knew to fear that one.

 

“Ever worked as a male model?” she asked with a glint in her eye, and he knew, he _knew_ she must have found the pictures online.

 

He groaned even louder than before.

 

* * *

 

 

In fact, when they were settled around his coffee table, the couches pushed back and passing the big casserole form and bowls around for those that were still eating (so, mainly Usagi), sipping on his third glass of wine, he was surprised he was actually somewhat enjoying himself.

 

Of course, there was no way he was going to sit through a movie with them, but this? This was almost kind of… nice.

 

And it was really sweet to see Usagi amongst her dearest friends.

 

He’d learned that Rei was enrolled back in school, in a two-year program at a Kokugakuin University to be exact, to reach the prefectural level of Shinto priestess. It was something he knew next to nothing about, and that fascinated him. And that Ami was applying to start her residency at his hospital.

 

Of course, interesting topics like this were usually interrupted by Minako.

 

Especially when she liked to venture into territory he really did not want to dive into. Like, ‘Where’s your girlfriend right now?’, ‘What does she think about Usagi living with you’, and ‘I wouldn’t trust a man who’s been with me so long and choosing to move in with another woman instead of me.’

 

“Well in how many serious long-term relationships have you been that you are to have an experience on this?” he answered the latest round of question, rather testily, and took a sip from his glass. It was a stupid reply, but he was getting severely annoyed.

 

Minako flicked her hair back, reached for the wine bottle. “I've easily been in a relationship for 10 years.”

 

Mamoru raised his eyebrows, blinking, and Rei and Makoto rolled their eyes. In all the times she'd wracked his apartment, she'd never once talked about anyone, and that would not have been weird had she seemed more like... well, him, but as it was, they were speaking about Minako Aino, and she had proclaimed last week that she'd finally found a vibrator fully suited to her needs, while he was so unfortunate to be in earshot.

 

“Well…” she started, after Ami’s ‘Oh, c’mon’ “…taken together maybe.”

 

Usagi spoke with her mouth full. “You’w had your first boyfwiend at 16. That’s not ten yearw ago yet.”

 

Minako shrugged her shoulder. “Well, some relationships *feel* like 10 years, ya know?”

 

Mamoru snorted.

 

“Yeah,” Rei said with a huff. “Like that silver-haired bore of a lawyer you dated for almost 2 years.”

 

Minako shrugged apologetically, and fixated his eyes as she explained “He might have been somewhat boring to talk to, but damn was he eye candy, and _really_ good in bed. And I tell you, the parties he took me to were _posh_.”

 

He blinked. These were things he really did not want to hear.

 

“You always say boring people are boring lays,” Rei said with a pointed look and a swirl of her glass, as she leaned back against his leather couch.

 

Mamoru felt the sudden urge to cover his ears and start to hum. Instead, he took another chug, and emptied his glass. The alcohol was getting into his head, he could feel it, especially with his lack of sleep.

 

Minako shrugged it off, saying something about exceptions being proof to a rule that she quoted horribly wrong, and then proceeded to talk more about ‘eye candy,’ and chose him as an example of how not all eye candy was sexy and vice versa.

 

Mamoru refilled his glass.

 

* * *

 

 

He blamed the alcohol for the fact that he did stick around, all night, and that he giggled stupidly through a silly movie, and this night had somehow turned into the most fun he might have had in years, Minako Aino excluded, and how it felt strangely exhilarating to be sitting together with Usagi on the couch, refilling glasses with the last remnants of red wine, when the girls had already left.

 

“And maybe a gaming night with Motoki and Unazuki!!!” Usagi added, bright eyes and moving onto her knees on the couch in excitement.

 

He giggled. It wasn’t even funny, and yet he giggled.

 

They sat together for a while yet, ignoring the mess. He’d wanted to clean at one point, but she’d decided sharing the rest of the last bottle and the rest of Makoto’s cupcakes that she’d brought for desert was way more fun.

 

And she was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …because Girls’ Nights WOULD be something that would happen to Chiba Mamoru if he lived with Tsukino Usagi. AU or not, lol. 
> 
> Please let me know what you thought, and what you think about Mamoru’s current state of mind, haha!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, fair warning. From here on out, I’m starting to dive into the deeper complexities of this set-up I gave them (i.e. the shitty situation I put them in) – so, I’m striking a few more serious notes, but, ya know… trying my utmost to treat this topic respectfully! 
> 
> Anyway, on we go and hope you like!

Usagi shouldered her camera bag awkwardly, as she exited her trusty Toei Oedo line and took off towards Okachimachi station’s north exit.

 

It was busy, very busy for this time of day, and the hordes of young people with their shoulder bags, brand clothing and their hurried steps passing her at the IC gates reminded her of where she was heading to: Tokyo University.

 

Ami’s school still intimidated her tremendously, whenever she was even near it, no matter how long Ami had already been studying there. It was the most prestigious university in the country after all, only the smartest of the smart went there, and Usagi felt completely out of place only breathing the same air, sometimes.

 

All that was obviously forgotten the minute she took the steps of her exit two at a time and saw Ami leaning against the side of the vending machine at the top of the stairs.

 

Ami greeted her with a big, proud smile and Usagi had to beam back, glancing at the large clock behind her friend. 12:01! She was completely on time for once!

 

Ami only had a tiny window of time between her classes and studying for her looming state exams, so meeting during the day was often a thing of minutes, these days, and of good timing.

 

“Third in a row!” Ami laughed as Usagi came bounding at her with a hug.

 

“I _know_!” Usagi replied, puffing her chest out proudly and tightening her hold a little before releasing her.

 

“Here,” Ami said, handing her a small USB Stick, as they fell in step.

 

Usagi put her hands together and bowed in a show of gratitude before taking the stick, and storing it oh so carefully in the front pockets of her camera bag, then double-checking if it was closed and secure, as if it were some kind of treasure.

 

Ami smiled. “Are they helping?” she asked.

 

“Totally!” Usagi shrieked. “My follower count went up by like, 400 since I’ve been adding your subtitles!”

 

And it did. It also meant Usagi now got tons of comments on her videos she absolutely did not understand and google translate made weird things out of it, but since Ami had started translating her videos into English, her channel had been growing and growing.

 

“I’m glad,” Ami smiled.

 

“Aaaand,” Usagi reached into her loose pink shopping back that was tucked beneath her camera bag, and carefully extracted a white, rectangular box. “The Mako-chan tea sandwich express, so you don’t starve holed up in your library like that! Ta-daaa.”

 

She held the box out like a prized item in a video-game, and Ami took it with a small giggle.

 

“You wouldn’t have needed to do that,” she said with a smile.

 

“It’s the least I can do!” Usagi said, and dodged a guy speeding along the street with his bike. “And Mako-chan says ‘hi,’ and ‘to do your best’!”

 

Ami nodded with a laugh. “Always.”

 

They stopped at a traffic light briefly, fell in step when it turned green immediately afterwards.

 

It was their newest Wednesday ritual. Usagi would meet Ami at the station, walk her back to the library after her break from classes to see her at least briefly during the week, since Ami’s schedule had picked up, exchange translations for food, and then go on to explore the area for things to vlog about.

 

Today: The Moomin café at nearby LaQua, and maybe a short trip to Kichijoji afterwards to film some fluffy soufflé pancakes. Something she proceeded to tell Ami immediately, and Ami laughed a little at Usagi’s excitement, and sighed how she wished she had the time to go with her, and Usagi vowed to return with her once her state exams were over.

 

“So how was the rest of your week?” Ami asked with a smile.

 

“Umm,” Usagi cocked her head, thinking, and then started listing everything on the top of her head with a smile. “Mamo-chan made okonomiyaki yesterday, when I begged for it, and it was suuuper delicious, and Monday we went for Shabu shabu at that little restaurant down near Mita station after his shift, and,” Usagi turned to Ami, excited, and waved her hands a little. “Oh, and, afterwards? On our way home we passed this tiny arcade – not Crown, but that little one, near Tamachi?” She threw Ami a look, who’d stopped to look at her peculiarly, but Usagi prattled on. “Can you believe Mamoru’s _never_ played a round of Taiko ni Tatsujin before? Anyway, I made him. He sucked at it. Aaand,” Usagi blinked, thinking hard. “Oh, and he made me watch this _super_ boring documentary on Sunday before his date, that I’m sure _you’d_ have loved. Wait, what was the name—"

 

Ami had turned to her with a look Usagi couldn’t place, and interrupted her. Not loud, not forcefully, but in that gentle, quiet Ami way, and with a soft clearing of her throat.

 

“How many times in a week do you eat dinner together, again?”

 

Usagi cocked her head to the side and blinked two times, before answering. “Um, all the nights that he’s home. Why?”

 

Ami nodded, and shook her head. “Nothing,” then cleared her throat once more. “You were saying?”

 

“Right,” Usagi said with a smile. “ _Super_ boring documentary. About this boring mathematician or logician or something Mamoru’s super into. _But_ , he’s also looked up this documentary about this famous Ramen chef for me that we’ll be watching sometime this week,” she finished proudly.

 

Ami blinked. “Hum,” she made, after a while, and nothing else, and Usagi wondered about the peculiar reaction.

 

“Um, Mamo-chan also did—“ Usagi started up again. This time Ami really interrupted her, very un-Ami-like.

 

“He’s still with his fiancée, right?” she asked.

 

Usagi blinked. “Of course he is…”

 

Ami nodded, slowly, then swallowed, and threw her that peculiar look again. “So… how is it, um, …overall? Living with Mamoru? It’s been about 2 months now, has it?”

 

“It’s great!” Usagi said with a smile. “Totally fine. He freaks out sometimes, and he’s still really uptight about some things, but I really like—”

 

Ami broke her off again, and this time Usagi was even more confused. Ami _never_ did that sort of thing…

 

“Anything… um, weird?” Ami asked, a little peculiarly. “About… living together?”

 

“Oh, you mean, because he’s a guy?” Usagi asked, confused.

 

“Well… in a …way?” Ami said, and Usagi turned her head with a frown.

 

“Um,” she blinked a little, thinking. “Well, there are certain things that are weird, but only some moments.”

 

“Oh?” Ami asked, with that absolutely polite expression that Usagi, after years of being her friend, could still place fairly well.

 

“Like, that day last week you and the girls came over for dinner?” Usagi threw her a look, and Ami nodded. “Earlier that day I came out of the bathroom in my fluffy Korilakkuma towel and he _fled_ the apartment.”

 

Ami blinked at her, startled.

 

“I mean, yes that towel is cutetsy, but it isn’t that bad, you know? The white one, the one where Korilakkuma is in his floofy bunny suit?”

 

Ami threw her a look, eyes a little wide. “Ummm… Usagi…”

 

“I mean, yeah, he _hates_ some of my stuff, but… to just leave like that because of it?”

 

“Usagi, I don’t think…”

 

“But,” Usagi said, barging on, “later that night he was really cute.”

 

Usagi looked up, when Ami’s step halted for a bit.

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yeah, after you all went home? He’s a really giggly drunk,” Usagi said, and giggled into her hand, as if on cue. “We stayed up together talking until, like, 3am, until he passed out on the couch, and I had to bring his bedding out cause I didn’t manage to move him,” she said with a smile.

 

The look Ami gave her then was slightly… off, and Usagi blinked, when Ami looked as if she was searching for the right words.

 

“The things you…” Ami started, frowning “…do together, um…”

 

Ami slowed a bit, and Usagi searched out Ami’s eyes, but they turned skyward, a little frustrated, even.

 

“How should I phrase that?” Ami mumbled, more to herself, and then her eyes flew back to Usagi’s. “Um… You do... spend a lot of time together. You and Mamoru-san?”

 

Usagi wrinkled up her nose. “I guess we do…”

 

“More than just… due to living together?” Ami said carefully.

 

Usagi blinked at her. “What are you trying to say?”

 

Ami blushed, her step quickened again, just a little. “Just… he cooks for you. He buys furniture for you _and_ your cat, you spend almost all your time together…”

 

Usagi crossed her arms, almost involuntarily. “Well, of course we do, we live together!”

 

Ami swallowed, threw her a look that was so very Ami, and full of concern. “Just… the way you spend your time together is perhaps not the typical way someone would spend time with a roommate, Usagi…”

 

Usagi’s eyes widened, and she almost stumbled over nothing, but caught herself. “What?” she said. “We eat dinner together and hang out in the evenings is all. That’s … _totally_ roommate stuff.”

 

Ami’s eyes grew… that mix of compassion and concern that they usually regarded Usagi with when she spoke of… different things. “Not when your roommate is engaged, and spending more time with you than their fiancée…”

 

Usagi swallowed. Her throat was suddenly dry. “… He’s…” she started, and shook her head, starting again “… She’s really busy, with her work. They see each other as much as they can…”

 

“You still haven’t met her, have you?” Ami asked, interrupting.

 

Usagi crossed her arms tighter. “N-no.”

 

Ami sighed, long and deep, and then shook her head, before she threw her that same look again, with her head cocked to the side, this time.

 

“All I’m saying… You are very easy to love, Usagi-chan…”

 

Usagi’s eyes flew to Ami’s, wide and a little stunned. “We’re just friends! Roommates! He doesn’t think about me that way, I _promise_ ,” she looked down at her feet and frowned. “He’s _engaged_ and, and… he gets annoyed with me every three seconds!”

 

Ami’s eyes lingered on her long and relentless, even when they were as gentle as always, and a beat of silence passed. “And you?” Ami asked, somewhat quietly.

 

“What, me?”

 

“You used to be very annoyed with him, too.” Ami said in that warm, understanding voice, that was currently a bit too much for Usagi. “Are you still?”

 

“I mean, _sometimes_ , yeah…”

 

Usagi fell into an even deeper frown, deep in thought.

 

Ami shook her head, and it landed into a smile, when Ami turned to her. One of those warm, warm, but very concerned Ami-chan-smiles, that always left Usagi a little worried. “Don’t mind me. Forget I said anything…”

 

It was the moment they’d arrived at the big, bulky entrance nearest to Ami’s library, and Usagi started a bit. She hadn’t paid attention to her surroundings for a little while.

 

Ami held out her arms, and this time it was Usagi being engulfed in a hug. “Just… be careful, ok?” Ami said against her hair, and Usagi nodded, and hugged her a little tighter before letting go.

 

Usagi turned away, deep in thought, and started walking.

 

“Oh, and Usagi-chan?” Ami called back to her, and Usagi turned around once more.

 

“Buy a robe!”

 

Usagi blinked, confused. What? Why?

 

But Ami already slipped through the big wooden gates, leaving Usagi behind to frown after her in confusion.

 

* * *

 

 

Usagi ran all the way from the station to their apartment building, clutching her camera bag in front of her chest protectively, as she wove between people on the busy Juuban streets, and when she arrived home, and barged through the door, nearly falling over the step of the genkan, tripping over her own shoes as she kicked them off, she was so out of breath she could barely get the words out.

 

“MAMO-CHAN!” she yelped, as she ran from the living room into his room and back out, and dropped her bag unceremoniously on the couch before she dove into the bathroom in her search.

 

“Kitchen!” he yelled back, voice annoyed and she could practically _hear_ his eyes rolling.

 

Sure enough, she found Mamoru sitting at the foldable table in the kitchen, sipping his coffee over his newspaper, not looking up, and Usagi finally stopped to breathe – just a second, stemming her hands against her knees and gulping in breath, and when she came at him he was finally looking up at her.

 

“Hey!” he barked bewildered, when Usagi ripped his mug and paper from his hands and put it on the counter.

 

She dug her hands into his shirt, pulling him off the high stool and he nearly fell.

 

“What—”

 

He was up, hands raised in bewilderment, and she hopped behind him and pushed at his back, getting him to move.

 

“We don’t have time,” she rasped, still that little bit out of breath, “we need to get changed.”

 

She’d managed to push him out into the hallway by then, and she knew the look he must be throwing her as he whirled around her, but she was already stomping into his bedroom, and buried her head into his wardrobe, starting to dig.

 

“ _Hey_!” he called out, again, trailing in behind her.

 

Did the guy _only_ own dress shirts? She thought with a roll of her eyes before she came upon a rather hideous looking green jacket that she’d never seen on him, but pushed back into the wardrobe as deeply as she could so she never would.

 

“Usagi!” he admonished, and came up beside her. “Would you care to explain what—”

 

“Ugh,” she growled. “Where’s your yukata?”

 

He blinked, slowly.

 

“At Saori’s,” he said, eyebrows raised.

 

 _Noooooooo_ —

 

She whipped her eyes to him, and she must have looked either feral or utterly devastated, and really, she _did_ feel both of those things, because his hands shot up again, and he held them up in defense.

 

“How could you have left it at your girlfriend’s on _such_ an important day, _don’t you_ —”

 

She blinked, broke off, didn’t reply or listen to his ‘ _Odango_ , what even is going on?!’, when a sudden thought occurred to her and she dove back into his wardrobe.

 

She jumped, when Mamoru pulled her out of his clothes by the waist.

 

“Usagi, what’s going on?” he groaned, that frustrated tone that he so often had with her laced through every word.

 

“Do you own a kimono?” she asked instead of answering, and he sighed, long and hard, and kept her gaze.

 

She stared him down, waiting for an answer, and with a dramatic roll of his eyes, he bent in the knees, and pulled out the single drawer beneath his wardrobe.

 

In it were two long rectangular boxes filled with fabric and covered with pristine tissue paper.

 

Usagi jumped up in delight and dove down, to Mamoru’s alarmed “ _careful_!!”, but it was ok either way, she slowed at the tissue paper, lifted it carefully, and after peeking into what was there, she found what she was looking for rather quickly.

 

She pulled his haori jacket out with a flourish, and held it up by the shoulder seams.

 

“ _Ta-daaa_ ,” she said, as if she’d sewn it herself.

 

It was a beautiful jacket, too! The dyed, rich cotton a dark blue with a classy white pattern. It was the color of his eyes, and it suited him.

 

Mamoru blinked at her, all confusion.

 

She hopped up, pulled at his sleeve so he’d bend down, and he did so automatically, even if utterly, utterly confused.

 

She flurried around him, pulled back his arms, and with a little flourish, pushed the jacket onto his shoulders, standing as far on her tiptoes as she could.

 

“This’ll do,” she said, smiling.

 

He looked down at himself with a frown.

 

“These are supposed to be worn over a kimono, not jeans,” he said, slowly, as if explaining to a child, and she rolled her eyes, and patted his arms on either side, tsking.

 

He actually looked stunning like this – something she chose not to dwell on too long, but the black T-shirt, black skinny jeans look he sported, combined with this traditional jacket the color of his eyes… he looked delicious.

 

She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry, and with a little hop she was out of his room, yelling a “Two minutes!” over a shoulder, and a, “don’t you dare change out of this again!” when she was already in her room, and yanked her own wardrobe open.

 

She wistfully looked at her rainbow of a yukata, in the corner of her closet, and decided against it.

 

If Mamoru wasn’t wearing one, she wasn’t either. So, instead, and decidedly, she pulled out her own haori jacket.

 

It was satin, and more on the cheap side, other than what his looked like, but way more colorful. Pale pink, with pastel flowers printed all over.

 

And biting her lip, she made a split decision. Maybe it was silly, but she’d already peeled out of her mini skirt and shirt, and put on her own black skinny jeans.

 

Sadly, she didn’t own a plain black T-shirt, and so instead, a slightly big-looking black tank top with a big white rabbit head on it had to do. It was one she loved – the rabbit looked a lot like the little doodles she put next to her name when she signed it.

 

When she came back out, haori jacket and all, Mamoru stood there, like a kid someone had forgotten to pick up, and froze at the sight of her.

 

She shrugged, even when she felt her own blush, grabbed her purse, and then his sleeve.

 

“C’mon,” she said, tugging at him. “We’re gonna miss the parade!”

 

“Parade?!” he said, scrunching up his nose, even as she shoved him into the genkan, and then out of the apartment.

 

* * *

 

 

The parade, it turns out, was a mikoshi parade – one that wouldn’t start for a _while_ yet, because they’d carry the portable shrine through the streets near the _end_ of this particular autumn festival that Usagi had randomly stumbled upon in Kichijoji while recording a video, not the start of it.

 

It was a pretty one, too. Leading down the streets and into the little park, the sides of the little lake and tea house covered entirely in lanterns.

 

It had, of course, taken him a while to finally make out from her gibberish _where the hell they were going_ , as Usagi dragged him in and out of the Chūō line, and when he did, he rolled his eyes so hard he was surprised it didn’t hurt.

 

All this hurry and excitement for a simple autumn matsuri? All that time he lost he could have worked on brushing up the results section of his dissertation!

 

But, as she excitedly talked about all the takoyaki and roasted chestnuts she’d eat and the fireworks they’d get to see, he realized that yes… all this excitement for an autumn festival. Because, obviously to her, it was more than a simple shrine celebration.

 

And for the first time in his life, as they exited the JR ticket gates and spilled out of the station and into a maze of lanterns, stalls, food odors, drums and people in yukata, kids running around and this thrum of livelihood around them… he felt himself getting excited for it, too.

 

At least it did when ever he glanced sideways, and saw the shine in Usagi’s eyes.

 

It didn’t take five minutes and she had a skewered, chocolate dipped banana between her lips, and a happy sigh rumbling through her throat, as she herded him along the busy, bustling, rhythmically thriving street.

 

“Look!” she yelped, mouth full. “Goldfish scooping!”

 

He raised an eyebrow, swerving around a group of laughing kids. “We don’t even have a fish tank,” he said, “ _and_ we have a cat.”

 

He started a bit, missing a step, realizing the way he’d phrased the ‘we’, and corrected himself quickly, “I mean, you have—”

 

But she interrupted him, speaking around her banana, and rolled her eyes. “Not to _keep_ , baka.”

 

And then she jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. At least she tried to, but, short as she was, it landed more towards his hips than his ribs.

 

“C’mon,” she said, and inhaled the rest of her chocolaty treat. “Whoever catches more.”

 

“ _We don’t have a fish tank_ ,” he repeated, slowly, a little louder. “ _And_ it’s cruel. _And_ you have a cat.”

 

“ _Not to keep_ ,” she said, equally slowly and intoned, as if he were the one being slow. “Whoever catches more?”

 

He sighed, rolled his eyes. “Then what?” he asked.

 

She bit her lip and scrunched up her nose in thought, and it caused a throb in him he chose to fully ignore.

 

“I win, you watch the rest of the Bachelor Japan with us,” she said, a glint in her eye.

 

He shrugged. There was no way he was gonna lose this anyway.

 

“And if you win—” she started, excitedly, hopping a little, and she would have bumped into the little elderly man behind her had Mamoru not reached out and pulled her to him by the elbow.

 

He interrupted her. “If I win, you let me throw away that hideous toaster.”

 

She looked at him, appalled, open-mouthed, and she would have bumped into another person, had he not pulled her to the left.

 

But then her mouth pulled into a little scrunched up thing and she nodded decisively, obviously deciding there was no way she was gonna lose this.

 

She lost, of course.

 

And by the third fish that broke through her little paper scoop, leaving her count at exactly zero and his at three, and the little bald man that ran the stall handed him a plump plastic bag filled with three little goldfish that _he still did not own a fish tank for_ , she pouted so hard that he had to laugh and forgot to question himself for a little moment why the hell he was even here. He didn’t even usually _like_ matsuris that much.

 

Then he remembered the poor fish swimming through plastic in his hand, lifted them up again, and remembered why he didn’t like matsuris that much. At least, well, in part. There were also _so many people_ at them.

 

He frowned at his new fish.

 

But Usagi grabbed the bag, and rolled her eyes with a smile. “Not to _keep_ , baka,” and with this, she turned, fish in hand, and weaved through the masses in a way that he had trouble keeping up.

 

She stopped where the stalls were farther apart, and the park began that also housed the shrine. Behind the cobbled road was a little pond, beneath a small, carved, red bridge, and she skipped right towards it.

 

He blinked, walked after her.

 

The pond was bigger than he’d expected. Since the sun was setting, receding into reds and purples, he couldn’t see all of it, but enough. The water was illuminated by the shine of the lanterns, and a long, white and red koi weaved its way beneath the little bridge as he knelt on it, next to Usagi.

 

She threw him a smile, held up the bag. The three goldfish swam in it, around and around.

 

“So, you want to set them free, or should I?” she said.

 

He blinked. There it was again, that tug inside of him. That tug he seemed to only ever feel with her. He swallowed it down decisively, and held his hands out for the bag.

 

With uncharacteristically stiff fingers, he untied the bag, and carefully, oh so carefully, emptied it into the little pond.

 

One, two, three, and they jumped into freedom, and his throat constricted.

 

“Be free!” Usagi called after them with a little wave. “Make some friends!”

 

He snorted incredulously, shook his head at her, and then grew quiet.

 

“You think they’ll be alright?” he asked.

 

She smiled, pointed down to the side of the lake, where two koi swirled around each other, and a… He frowned. Was that… That had got to be the biggest friggin’ goldfish he’d ever seen.

 

“I’m pretty sure that’s the little guy I dumped here at the autumn festival five years ago,” she said with a shrug and a smile. “His name is Herbert. I visit him sometimes.”

 

He swallowed around the lump in his throat, listened to her explanations, how they tended to take good care of koi ponds, and goldfish seemed to thrive with koi. That Hikawa’s koi pond had two goldfish, too, from when she did this very thing at their shrine festival, too. 

 

He felt the sudden urge to run back and catch all the goldfish in that stall.

 

When he got back up, and they walked away from the bridge, he started a little. Noticing how the drums and music had seemed so distant for a moment, and suddenly came closer when they walked back amongst the stalls.

 

Usagi, obviously, had already hopped ahead and stopped at the nearest takoyaki stand with a squee.

 

The bonito flakes on it wriggled, when she held up a little skewer and told him to open up, a little later.

 

It was the only piece he’d get, of course. The rest was for her, and he savored it. They did taste rather delicious, better than he’d remembered, and he blushed, when she moaned at her first bite.

 

A few girls in front of them, all in Yukata, turned back towards them sheepishly, first him, then Usagi, and then started to giggle at each other in hushed tones.

 

He swallowed. He realized too, that they looked like a couple like this, in their haoris and black jeans. Like a very good-looking couple.

 

He closed his eyes, shook out the thought, and swallowed his octopus ball, then sighed.

 

“It’s a really nice festival,” he said, walking side by side and through the masses, when Usagi swallowed her last takoyaki ball and wove them towards the nearest yakitori stall.

 

He frowned at himself, even while he said it.

 

“Oh, wait until the parade! And the fireworks!” Usagi said excitedly, grabbing his elbow.

 

He nodded, chuckling.

 

“It’s one of my favorites,” Usagi said, smiling. She stopped in the queue. A man in yukata was in front of her in line, and Mamoru stopped beside her. “Even when it almost always makes me a little bit said.”

 

He turned to her, and raised an eyebrow.

 

She shrugged. “Because it’s the last one!” she said, and he blinked.

 

Ah.

 

“After this, it’s just not the same. This is the last real festival of the season,” she said with a pout. “The next ones, it will be cold, there won't be fireworks or yukatas, and we have to wait until May again for it to start.”

 

He chuckled.

 

“What?” she huffed, shuffling forward in the line.

 

“You know, this is my first matsuri this year,” he said, still chuckling.

 

The look she gave him resembled the ones she’d throw at him whenever he’d had the audacity to even suggest throwing out leftovers in the fridge.

 

He shrugged, still chuckling, and held up his arms in surrender. “I’m just not much of a festival person.”

 

She looked at him as if he’d said he thought kittens were not cute, or that breathing was not really his thing.

 

Her reply would have been thunderous and emotional, he had no doubt, had it not been her turn at the stalls and she’d been distracted by glistening grilled food, and he stepped to the side.

 

Glistening, delicious smelling food that she held in his face as if in accusation, a few moments later. As if she held up proof of how it could be impossible that anybody could call himself ‘not a festival person,’ and this time, he received his own two skewers.

 

They _were_ rather delicious.

 

But it was later, that his heart did that tug even more insistently than before.

 

It was when she turned to him, eyes bright and full of wonder, when the drums and flutes started up, and the mikoshi parade started.

 

It was small, so small. Just the little, portable shrine carried by a bunch of volunteers and people associated to the shrine in traditional garb. A few little wagons behind, two drummers, a flutist, and a man in mask on top of the first, inviting the local kami and parading it up and down the streets. It was so small, so normal, and Usagi acted like a child would when presented with their very own swimming pool-sized ball pit.

 

It was adorable. It was so adorable it hurt him.

 

… _ko_ , he thought. Usa _ko_.

 

He swallowed, willed the thought away.

 

The music swelled, people gathered in dense crowds on the sides, and he and Usagi were pushed to the back.

 

She whined, almost pitifully, started jumping up and down. She couldn’t see anymore.

 

It was a while, after the crowd grew even denser and her smile fell along with her shoulders, and it almost _hurt_ to see, because the small movement felt so _wrong_ , so…

 

He threw her a pointed look, blushing ever so slightly, and really asked himself, for the hundredth time, what he was even doing.

 

She didn't get it, though.

 

Until she did, shrieking in half a laugh when he bent down, got on his knees behind her, and, holding his breath, slipped his head between her legs and his hands around her knees, and got up with her on his shoulders.

 

She giggled through her shrieks, and it sounded so awfully right, and he felt her hands on his head for support, and had to blink away the thoughts that came unbidden.

 

 _No_. He wouldn’t go there.

 

“Mamoru!” she scolded, shrieking, with a giggle. A woman in front of them giggled into her hand and looked away. “I'm too heavy!” Usagi said.

 

He snorted, incredulously, and just for added effect and to make his point clear, he started to jump up and down and slightly sideways to the rhythm of the drums and music, and this time she laughed outright in between her shrieks, and it was more exhilarating to him than the music could ever dream to have that effect on him.

 

He sobered up at the thought, immediately, and stopped the hopping.

 

 _No_. He wouldn’t go there.

 

But he didn’t let her go, either. She giggled, pointed out things in the parade and gushed, as, almost immediately, the sky flooded with the cracking, colorful magic that were the fireworks.

 

He felt her fingers in his hair.

 

* * *

 

 

The skies where pitch black when they made their way home.

 

And it was only when they exited the JR station together – a little out of the way than their usual metro station, and they wordlessly seemed to agree on the 15 minute walk instead of taking the bus for the last bit – that the thought came to her unbidden.

 

This had felt like a date.

 

A very innocent date, but a date nonetheless.

 

But instead of parting ways, like would usually happen at this point if it _had_ been a date, they were walking home, past narrow dark streets illuminated by neon shop signs and the flickering lights of the vending machines.

 

Even if he wasn’t already taken, this would have been weird.

 

She swallowed. Well, thank god this _wasn’t_ a date, then. It was just…

 

“How come I was allowed to come?” Mamoru asked, a bit halted, and her gaze whipped to his, startled. Had he been thinking the same?

 

His face was illuminated by the bright, slightly red-hued lights of the street, and he looked… she didn’t know what that was in his eyes.

 

She scrunched up her nose. Both in thought and confusion. But he seemed to have taken it as a ‘huh,’ not a ‘I’m thinking’, because he brought his hand to his neck and elaborated with a shrug.

 

“Why not the girls? Why did you come back all the way from Kichijoji if you were there already, just to come get _me_ of all people?”

 

She blinked. Why _had_ she done it? She hadn’t even thought about it at the time, really. It had… just happened.

 

Maybe she’d just wanted him with her. And without warning, Ami’s words came tumbling back into her mind.

 

_The way you spend your time together is perhaps not the typical way someone would spend time with a roommate._

 

She shook her head, decidedly. No. She wouldn’t go there.

 

She pursed her lips. “Minako is on a job, and Rei tends to be overly judgemental on shrine festivals that aren’t her own shrine festival, and…” she broke off, swallowing, frowning.

 

While these things were technically true, they usually didn’t keep her from trying to get the girls. For the Juuban Matsuri just a couple weeks ago, she’d tried to drag Rei from the shrine still in her white and blue priestess garb, and when Rei wouldn’t budge, she’d basically shoved Ami out of the library to go with her. But today, she hadn’t even thought of getting any of the girls. Today she’d run home to get Mamoru.

 

Usagi frowned, then swallowed thickly. This wasn’t really something she ought to say, ought to even think, and so she continued “…and Mako-chan can’t leave the café at random, and—"

 

“Right,” he said, interrupting her with a sigh and a frown of his own, and they fell into silence, and slowed down as the traffic light across from them turned red.

 

Usagi pursed her lips. _Get out of this mood, get out of this mood_ , she chanted to herself, and then her eye caught the bright light of the conbini to her right.

 

Her eyes brightened, and she grabbed Mamoru’s elbow again.

 

There was never a time when choux cream pastry could not lift a mood.

 

“Usagi, what—” he said, stumbling after her and into Lawson’s, and they both blinked at the bright, bright lights inside as she beelined for the pastry shelf, and Mamoru was back to that slow shake of his head and the deep sighs.

 

“You just ate your way across a matsuri. How can you still _eat_?” he said, rubbing his hands across his face in frustration.

 

She bought two. The way he talked, he’d obviously never fully sat to savor a choux cream pastry.

 

And she would have eaten it on the go, too, if Mamoru wasn’t being difficult, insisting that one didn’t eat and walk at the same time, and she rolled her eyes and quickened her step, and rushed ahead into the apartment and into the kitchen to get him a plate, because he was lame like that, and plopped down into that shiny new posh balcony chair he’d bought and finally, finally ripped the foil away and held the confection up in triumph as he settled – minus the jacket – next to her.

 

He raised his eyebrows and chuckled at her.

 

“You, too!” she said, admonishing, and rolled her eyes at how he daintily peeled away the foil wrapping from his treat, arranging it, before lifting it in front of his face, holding his unnecessary plate beneath it to protect his clothing for falling crumbs.

 

He threw her a look, and she wriggled her eyebrows, nodding her chin for him to go on.

 

“It’s from a conbini. It probably sat there all day. How good can it be?” he said, with a roll of his eyes to her appalled look that he received in reaction, but then he lifted the pastry as if in salute, and brought it to his mouth.

 

He bit into the pastry carefully, and she saw his eyes widen as the thick, luscious vanilla mousse inside billowed out and onto his tongue.

 

Her eyes and mouth widened in both delight and surprise. “You _really_ haven’t had choux cream before?!”

 

“Ugmn”, he made, unintelligible, but his second bite was bigger, and he gave that tiny, tiny, almost inaudible half-sigh, half-moan, that did things to Usagi she really wasn’t comfortable naming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theeeere you go. So, some of you have been asking how long this fic is gonna be. Originally I’d planned for about 11 chapters. It’s now fully outlined with all scenes, and I’m counting 14 chapters. So that’ll probably be it!
> 
> Also, thank you to Uglygreenjacket, for being the fastest friggin beta in the world (I only finished the second draft of this chapter today!) and to Irritablevowel for asking the right questions about this story with me, and joking the right jokes! 
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… you guys are slowly getting how I’m COMPLETELY failing at comedy, lol. But ah well, a rom com is not all laughs, anyway…? So yes, it’s been pointed out to me I need to specify this: This is a romantic comedy. Also called a dramedy. It’s why this roommate has a fiancée xD. And yes, it also contains drama. And comedy. A rom com. But huge fail on the lighthearted and easy, lol, like HUGE FAIL, because apparently, I can’t do that lol. This is gonna be complex and deep.
> 
> Anyway. I’ve put them (and especially Saori) into a very complex predicament, and I assure you, it will be very, very thoroughly addressed. Just give them a little time until there is something substantial to even address and react to. The drama will hit, lol.
> 
> Alllsooo, to me guest reviewer who was so disappointed that they looked online for a picture of Mamoru in kimono or yukata and not finding one – I actually drew one a while ago, and you can find it on my tumblr in the “my fanart” tag – so there you go, guest reviewer, don’t be sad! I got you covered! ; )
> 
> And, of course, my forever thanks to my very, very patient beta, Uglygreenjacket. She sometimes has to keep me from deleting, like, all of it, and I know that’s not fun at all! (But I didn’t! So here you go!)

Usagi groaned loudly and turned her face into her pillow, as she lifted her hand from the bed to whack her obnoxious alarm clock just once more.

 

“I swear to god if you hit snooze one more time you’re moving out,” came the exasperated holler through her door and she finally woke with a start, sitting straight up in her bed.

 

_Wait, what?_

 

She glanced at her alarm clock, and flew from the bed, cursing.

 

She barely looked at Mamoru as he sat there on the couch, reading his morning paper like always, coffee cup lifted to his lips, as she ran past him in just her thin pajama top and underwear.

 

“WHY DID YOU NOT WAKE ME UP?!” she yelled accusingly and banged the bathroom door shut behind her.

 

She didn’t hear what he replied, just the grumbling sound of it.

 

Of course, she was late. Of course, the smart, tailored, mixed and matched pant suit that Ami had bought her for her first work interview years ago that usually looked so chic and adorable on her was a crinkled, horrible mess and her blouse slightly sweaty from her run, and her make-up non-existent because she hadn’t had the time, and of course, she still missed her appointment.

 

It didn’t stop being a horrid, horrible day from then on.

 

Turns out, as she stood in the ATM at the conbini, because she wanted to get the latest autumn edition special drinks to at least get a vlog in, that her card expired. Turns also out, that her bank couldn’t just hand her out a new card, _especially_ not since she’d forgotten her ID at home, and she’d have to wait to get it in the mail, and had she returned their calls when they asked her for a forwarding address, she’d have gotten it already. To top it all off, she’d of course gotten to her voluntary job late because of her trip to the bank, and once she arrived, her boss sent her home with an irritated and condescending sigh, saying she’d already got someone else to take the kids to Odaiba, and she could go home, then, and if she didn’t work on her reliability she should rethink her position in the company.

 

Of course, a day as horrid as this couldn’t go out with another bang, and so, as she was on her way home from her self-pity milkshakes paid for with the last money she still had as a balance on her Suica IC card, and she answered the Unknown call right on the Oedo Line and people hissed at her because answering phones on the train was an absolute no-go, she wanted to lie down on the floor of the train car and wallow in self-pity.

 

She had the urge to get off and run home to her Mama.

 

It was a rather stern lady from the tax office on the phone. Apparently, she had failed to file her income tax return in time, and now had to pay this giant fine if she didn’t get it done and emailed by _tomorrow_ , in addition to 20% of all of her income she’d made in the past year, which amounted to pretty much all her savings and this month’s rent, and had she not gotten the mail about this in the last couple months, and why did she not leave a forwarding address like any normal person, and no they could, of course, not make an exception.

 

She’d freaked out, and freaked out even more, when she realized she’d already dialed her ex’s number for help, felt mortified when she didn’t manage to hang up in time and had to then make awkward small talk and ask for her mail (that he apparently put on hold) and had to bite her lip in order to not ask for help.

 

And then, of course, _of_ _course_ , she had to drop her purse, and with it her camera. And with trembling hands, she assessed the damage, and then fell into uncontrollable sobs in the middle of Exit 4, blocking everyone else from exiting the station.

 

When she finally arrived home, she fell on her bed with heaving sobs, cause fucking hell, she was not an adult, she was an imposter in adult skin, and where the hell was her mommy.

 

So, when Mamoru came home, wearing white scrubs and a frown, he froze in the doorway at the sight of her amidst piles of receipts and paperwork, as she sat crying uncontrollably in front of her laptop in the living room.

 

And her sobs turned even heavier, when he had the audacity to be utterly sweet, and sat down next to her, skipping his entire routine, and listened to her crying explanations with that stupid pretty hair falling into those stupid gorgeous eyes so full of concern.

 

“And- a-and--- I’ve never _done_ my own taxes, before,” she cried, hiccupping, shaking the receipts in her fist. She knew her un-mascara-d eyes would be puffy and red, her skin blotchy and oily and those stupid tears everywhere, and she sobbed even harder. “My ex always did it for me, I completely forgot that this even _exists_ , and now because I’m … I’m such a fucking _failure_ at all things _adulting_ …” she hiccupped, choked a little on her tears, and he rubbed her back, just listening.

 

“And then on the way I broke my stupid camera lens, and I only _have_ the one _,_ and Minako gave me this shot at interviewing this really famous pastry chef this week that could have gotten me the money to-to,” she cried, shoulder shaking, “y’know, _pay my fucking income tax_ and still have some _resemblance_ of savings left.”

 

He rubbed her back, and she hiccuped again, and his eyes found hers, and she wanted to crawl into a hole and die from all the concern there was in his.

 

“I can do it for you,” he said, voice gentle and sweet.

 

It caused the sobs to come heavier, and a watery growl to escape her lips. “I don’t _want_ anyone to do it _for me_! I want to be someone who can do it on her _own_ ,” she cried. “But I _can’t_ , because I’m a fucking failure and I’m not fucking perfect _Shingo,_ or Ami, or _you_ , and I _CAN’T_ —"

 

She had to break off, the sobs turned too hard, but suddenly there were his arms, and suddenly she was in them and sobbed into his warm, soft neck, and he held her tight.

 

“How about we deal with this one by one?” Mamoru whispered in her ear, and all she could do was nod into his neck.

 

“But it’s Thursday night,” she sniffled into his shirt, and felt her cheek move under his shrug.

 

“I’ll call Saori for a raincheck,” he whispered.

 

And he managed to calm her down at least a little, talked her through a sensible course of action, and after a short call that she witnessed him having with his girlfriend, cancelling his plans with her (which left her mortified even more), she found herself outside of their building, and climbing on the back of his motorcycle she didn’t even previously know he owned.

 

First stop was a little backstreet Post Office in Meguro. Because if her ex put her mail on hold, it would be stored in the Post Office closest to her old shared apartment with him. And when they walked in and they _had_ it, and she received a stack of mail that _did_ contain a thicker envelope from her bank which _did_ contain her new card, she felt like crying in gratitude, and would have walked out of there in her fresh but happier tears, if Mamoru had not held her back and made her file a forwarding address while they were already here.

 

And so, with her shiny new access to her money, she was back on his motorcycle, and this time she could feel how exhilarating it was to sit with her legs pressed against his, and her arms around him as he drove them through Tokyo all the way to the nearest of the Yodobashi Camera stores, which after a quick search online said they had her lens in stock, and he stood with her in his white scrubs, as she picked her order up from the information desk with trembling, relieved hands.

 

And then he drove them both back home, while the sun had already long set and the streets had turned busier and brighter, and once home he’d sat down with her, and spent all night explaining the Japanese Tax system to her, her Knight in Shining Tax Knowledge.

 

It was three minutes to midnight, three minutes to tomorrow, when she finally hit the upload button on her laptop, and for the first time in her 25 years of life, filed her own tax return, and she broke down crying again, but this time in gratitude.

 

And he still sat with her, until she calmed down, and when she did, he brought over two glasses, and had filled them with red wine. It took her a moment until she realized the bottle he was pouring it from was the very same bottle she’d given him when she first came to view the apartment.

 

She blinked, bit her lip, and he held his glass up to her with a slow smile.

 

She lifted hers. It made a high, clear sound when they clinked glasses, and suddenly, sipping the classy wine Rei had picked out for her that tasted tangy, but slightly fruity, after she’d just filed her taxes, she felt so much more adult than she had this morning.

 

It almost brought about a fresh set of tears. Almost. Instead, she leant her head back against the couch behind her, watched Mamoru lean back and do the same, and had to giggle a little about the fact how they were both still sitting on the floor, with two perfectly sound leather couches available to them.

 

The giggle stifled a little in her throat at the way Mamoru smiled at her. Slow, at first, then turning wider, eyebrow lifting.

 

She cleared her throat. Suddenly so aware of the fact that this man that she happened to live with, but who really owed her nothing, had thrown all his plans overboard to help her through her sudden crisis in the most patient and practical ways possible.

 

“Thank you,” she mumbled into her wine glass. “Thank you so much.”

 

He shrugged, looked down into his own glass, and frowned for a brief second.

 

“So,” he started, a little awkwardly, “who’s Shingo, and why is _he_ so perfect?” he said, and by the end, it had turned into this little, mischievous smile, and she blushed when she remembered she’d listed Mamoru as well in her list of perfect people, earlier today.

 

Just a second. And then she remembered why she’d listed those people in the first place.

 

She sighed, lowered her glass. “My little brother.”

 

He held her gaze, nodded, but looked a little surprised, as if that had been the last thing he’d expected.

 

She shrugged. “He just graduated from university – Waseda, actually. Top of his class. He’s really smart,” she said, sighing deeply. “And he just moved out and got this really good job, and my parents are _so_ proud…”

 

She took a sip of her wine, a bigger one this time, and frowned into her glass as she shook it a little, the red liquid sloshing around in her glass in a rhythmic way, around and around.

 

“And I _am_ proud of him, I _am_. My _brat_ of a baby brother in a suit like that, landing a job _like_ _that_ , but…” she trailed off slowly with a frown.

 

“Meanwhile, here am I…” she sighed.

 

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

 

She threw him a look, gestured toward her laptop, the mountain of wrinkled receipts, and the little cardboard box beside it, still left unpacked, that held her new camera lens, and then down on herself and the wrinkled mess that was supposed to be a classy look.

 

She sighed, took another sip of her wine. She felt it getting into her head a little.

 

“It’s kinda why I’m here…” she said in a small voice, not looking at him.

 

She felt him shift closer, and out of the corner of her eye, saw him incline his head down towards her.

 

“What do you mean?” he asked, his voice taking on this concerned hue to it once more.

 

She shrugged, a little uncomfortably, and looked up, scrunched one eye shut and wrinkled her nose as she inclined her head and looked into his way too pretty, way too concerned, way too gentle face.

 

It was so easy to forget, like this, like now, that they were just roommates, and he was taken, and he was… And he’d not even _be_ here tonight, instead he’d be in the bed of a woman she had never even met.

 

She really wondered what she was like… The woman Chiba Mamoru loved.

 

She shook her head, cleared her throat. “Why I broke up,” then she shook her head, quick and erratically. “It’s really silly.”

 

“Tell me,” he said, almost in a whisper.

 

It occurred to her, with a little start, that this was the most honest conversation they’d ever had. The most honest day they’d ever had, as she sat beside him with bloodshot eyes and no make-up, talking about what really was something she liked to push down, ignore, and never talk about.

 

“I’m Chaos,” she shrugged, and he then pursed her lips, as he had the audacity to snort beside her in this agreeing way, as if it was obvious, but she sighed, because yes, yes, she was.

 

“I can’t cook. I shrink my clothes when I wash them. I can’t use a washing machine without flooding the bathroom for using soap accidently instead of detergent.” She threw him a look when he snorted again, vividly remembering the mess, no doubt. “I graduated with the lowest grades and it was _hard_. My first job was this office job I flunked _so_ badly, and now…” she sighed.

 

“I'm really bad at paying my bills on time and I'm really bad at not eating ice cream for breakfast when I can,” she said, in a small voice. “But… I wanted to be this put together person, once I would cross that magic border into adulthood and everything would be glamorous and classy and easy, but…”

 

“It’s never easy,” he finished for her, and she nodded.

 

“ _Never_.” She sighed again, slumped her shoulders. “I want to be a responsible adult, but I’m just _not_. I want to be someone my parents can be proud of, _too_.”

 

She shook her head, took a sip. He was silent, waiting for her to go on. She felt his shoulder bump against his arm when she shifted again.

 

“When I broke up… it was either this, or going back to my parents,” she said, and she felt him move a little, start a little.

 

She leaned her head back against the couch seat with a little thud. “I don't wanna be one of those people in ‘fast growing ecologic Asia’ who—"

 

“Economic,” he corrected, but she talked right on with a roll of her eyes

 

“– can't manage to leave the nest... Yeah, I'm chaos. And really shitty at adulting. But I _am_ an adult, whether I’m shitty at it or not, and…” she swallowed, gripped her glass between both hands, the stem of it resting against her thigh, legs outstretched.

 

“... I don't wanna be the girl who returns home and lives with her parents forever and pretends to look after them but then my mom still does my laundry...” she said in a small voice and felt that pit in her stomach – how it must be so insensitive, all these things she was saying, all these things she was _feeling_ , when he had no parents at all.

 

She cleared her throat. “And yes, it’s also probably some part of the reason why I broke up, if I’m really honest.”

 

He bumped her shoulder as he moved to lean forward a little. She held her breath until she understood what he was doing.

 

He was reaching for the open wine bottle on the coffee table, and then refilled her empty glass, saying nothing and yet urging her to continue.

 

He was strangely good at listening.

 

“He wanted to marry me,” she said in a small voice, and this time, Mamoru threw her a look.

 

And she gave a little sarcastic snort. “And that's so silly because that was… my dream... _maybe_ still IS, as stupid as it sounds. I always wanted to be married and be a housewife to a great man...” She sighed. “He hadn’t asked yet, but I found the ring. And my mom was _so proud_ when I called her freaking out about the find…” she inhaled deeply, and exhaled with a huff and falling shoulders “… and then I realized that I was on the verge of agreeing, of saying yes, but… not because I couldn’t imagine my life without him, but because my mom was _so_ _proud_ , and because for a second there I thought this proposal would mean I would be a ‘ _success’_ …”

 

She bit her lip. This sounded _so_ _awful_. _She_ sounded so awful…

 

She saw him frown, out of the corner of her eye.

 

“So… you didn't love him?”

 

Her eyes widened, and she whipped around to her side to face him, appalled. “Yes, of course I love him!!!” she exclaimed.

 

He blinked at her, and his eyes were so close to her now, and so very confused.

 

She deflated, turned around again and bumped her backside back against the couch. “But...” she sighed, frustratedly. “It wasn’t…. I know what love is, I believe in it. And I _do_ love so many people. I love everyone. I don't ... it doesn't...” she frowned, started again. “I feel like I fall in love every five minutes. My heart starts beating and my eyes are all hearts all the time. _All the time_. Boys, girls, everyone. You know, when I first met you…” she trailed off, blushing.

 

His head whipped to hers.

 

Her eyes widened, and she shook her hand, almost dropping her red wine onto his white scrubs in the process, and he jumped a little.

 

“I mean… I don’t _now_ , don’t worry… but,” she swallowed, thickly, embarrassed, “that’s what I’m saying. I get like that… _always_. My friends… you know, when I met Rei, for instance…  I could have _sworn_ I was in love with all of them. It's so confusing.”

 

He frowned, swallowed, frowned a little more.

 

“So...” he said after a moment of silence. “You were ...afraid you'd betray him...?”

 

She looked at him, even more appalled than before. “No, of course not! I would never hurt him in that way!”

 

He blinked, confused.

 

“I…” she started, and frowned a frown that mimicked his almost exactly. “I love him, I do. But I don’t love him more than I love everyone. It wasn’t… it wasn’t right. There’s more out there, I know it. I couldn’t sit around and wait for it to happen while I was still with him. And I… I could see it, how it made him sad. How his love grew and grew but mine stayed the same. He loved me so much, and wanted this life… and I … I felt like I could have replaced him with anyone.”

 

Mamoru blinked, his frown stuck in place, and he took a long, slow sip from his glass, frowning into the distance.

 

“I do love him. But I… Not enough? Not the same? Not _more_ … I couldn’t promise to…” she sighed, breaking off. “I don't know… it's so confusing.”

 

He nodded, brow crinkled and tense. “It is,” he said.

 

She sighed, her face falling into a pout, and let her head fall back against the seat cushion once more and turned her face so she could look at him, with her cheek resting against the soft leather.

 

He looked deep in thought.

 

“Well,” she said, loudly, trying to bring back a somewhat more cheery mood. He almost jumped a little.

 

“Thank you, Mamo-chan,” she whispered, and held up her glass to his. “For having me, and for helping me adult.”

 

He smiled. It looked a little crooked.

 

He clinked his glass against hers.

 

“Anytime, Usa.”

 

* * *

 

 

“—and then he _hugged_ me, _so_ tight, and just… cancelled his date and instead drove me through Tokyo _on a motorcycle_ and helped me make it all better and—”

 

“Wait,” Makoto interrupted, confused, pulling out a chair at the table and brushing her hands against her floury apron. “This was _Mamoru_? Chiba ‘I prefer to work in silence’ Mamoru? ‘I snort all the way through a romantic movie’-Mamoru?”

 

“ _Yes_ , and then he, like, spent all night _teaching me the tax system_ – which, by the way, I _totally_ get now, and then he opened up that bottle of wine and—”

 

Usagi was talking in a voice so excited, she’d barely even touched her second slice of Makoto’s lemon sponge cake with passion fruit crème and lemon curd topping, and instead waved the little ornate, golden fork around erratically as she spoke, when Minako interrupted her.

 

“So, what you’re saying is; we’re back to having the hots for roommate?” Minako said with a raise of her eyebrows. “Mr. Boring-Ass ‘My kind of fun Friday night is cleaning out the trash bins with bleach’ roommate, really?”

 

Usagi physically recoiled. “What, no, I didn’t say that!”

 

Makoto and Minako threw each other a look across the table, and Usagi had to blink, and leant back against the white iron chairs of Makoto’s café with a frown.

 

 _No… he’s engaged, I’m not… I_ can’t _be._

 

“He’s engaged, Usagi-chan…” Makoto said, in that kind, sympathetic voice of hers.

 

She shook her head, sharply. “I _don’t_ , I promise. We’re just… roommates. And maybe friends, now.”

 

Minako snorted into her piece of mascarpone cream cake. “Yeah, right.”

 

“I’m not!” Usagi exclaimed with a huff, and then dug her fork angrily into her cake-y lemon sanctuary.

 

She frowned around her angry chewing. They didn’t know what they were talking about. She wasn’t into Mamoru. No. NO!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Meeting Saori!


	8. Chapter 8

He was terrified. There wasn’t an exam or interview or any kind of social situation he’d ever been this nervous about.

 

“So, when’s your girlfriend coming over?” Usagi asked brightly, and yet, her arms were tightly crossed.

 

He felt sick. It felt like his gut was a writhing pit of maggots, every muscle in his body was tense, his pulse was running a marathon, and yet he clenched both teeth and fists in his pocket and breathed deep and pretended nothing was amiss.

 

“She should be here any minute,” he answered. Shocked by the way it sounded so nonchalant.

 

He didn’t even really know what there even was to be so nervous about! There was nothing whatsoever going on with him and Usagi, and neither would there be! And yet, he knew this was surely, surely going to end in disaster. There was no way Saori would not be able to read the obvious attraction he had towards Usagi. No way at all. And even if he was adamant to never, ever act on it, and knew how childish it was, in fact, and that it would pass any second now, still…

 

He sighed.

 

Usagi nodded curtly, her glossy, shiny blond hair bobbing around her while she did, and carried her latest monthly stack of Manga into her room from where it had been spattered across various corners in the living room along with millions of cushions – because Usagi sometimes behaved like a cat and liked to cozy up in sunny spots on the floor with her head pillowed and her feet dangling one over the other as she read on the floor – and then left everything there as if forgotten, the minute she was done.

 

But, right now, Usagi was cleaning up her mess. Even carried the two small reflector lamps she used for recording back into her room, pushed against the sliding door of the wooden wardrobe, and let them disappear.

 

She shot him a curious look, the way he’d obviously followed her without noticing, migrated past her doorway and stared, fists in his pockets.

 

He blinked, startled out of it, and hurried into the kitchen, put the kettle on, then busied himself with the coffee beans.

 

Inhale, shake out the coffee beans. Exhale, into the grinder. Inhale, push the plastic flap down, Exhale, the gritty, jerky shake of the machine as he held the plastic cup down and felt the beans get torn and broken apart, and it felt oddly like an echo of what his stomach was currently doing with his insides.

 

He’d transferred the newly ground coffee beans into a filter and set a first cup underneath the machine when the doorbell rang.

 

He jumped.

 

Usagi had flurried into the hallway but not pressed the intercom, wide-eyed, and he was surprised, so surprised, how he walked to the door normally, in a normal pace, with a normal stance, pressed the intercom and greeted Saori with a normal voice, before buzzing her in, and walking back into the kitchen.

 

Usagi followed him, her white, ruffled socks with bright big unicorns on them making hollow, muffled sounds and she scurried after him as if she were, indeed, a cat.

 

He put the first coffee cup on a saucer and both on a tray, pushed the second under the machine, and walked back out, Usagi on his heels.

 

It was oddly calming, feeling her fluttering nerves. Though he really had no idea what _she_ had to be nervous about.

 

He opened the shoe cabinet – suppressing the roll of his eyes, that threatened to overcome him every day he opened the thing now, at the sheer color and amount of shoes stacked haphazardly into every nook and cranny, pulled a small pair of bordeaux colored slippers from his orderly quarter of it, and put them neatly on the floor.

 

He opened the door before Saori had a chance to knock, and he greeted her warm smile with a press of his lips to her forehead and ushered her in without words.

 

Saori looked at him expectantly, as she stopped in the genkan as if she hadn’t been here so often, and he cleared his throat and remembered he had a job to do here, that there was a reason to this.

 

“Right. Saori, this is Tsukino Usagi, my new roommate,” he said, his voice betraying nothing of the turmoil inside of him and he still could not fathom why.

 

And then he stopped, freezing for a moment. The words – ‘ _Usagi, this is my fiancée, Saori’_ – lodged in his throat, and just didn’t come out.

 

He jerked a bit, pretended that was it, that he didn’t even notice he was doing introductions wrong, and closed his mouth, moving closer to Saori, but glancing over at Usagi.

 

Usagi seemed not to notice whatsoever, and instead she waved with a big smile. The shirt she wore was a bit oversized – or maybe supposed to look like this – but her small hand barely peeked out of the too long sleeve and Mamoru had to bite his cheeks on the inside to keep from smiling and his nerves flared back up.

 

 _You don’t have to blow your cover in the fucking_ genkan _._

 

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Saori said, in her gentle voice with her gentle smile and bowed, and Mamoru’s eyes flitted back to Usagi in her oversized sweater and unicorn socks and her eyes widened, and she bowed too, a little lower, with a blush.

 

“It’s very nice to finally meet you, too.”

 

Saori slipped off her shoes and pushed them orderly to the side of the step like she always did, and slipped her nyloned feet into her designated, well-worn bordeaux slippers.

 

Then she held up a white carrier box. “I brought cake!” she announced.

 

And with this, Mamoru could see by the way Usagi’s eyes lit up, Saori had already won her over.

 

* * *

 

 

“Oh, it’s from this adorably quaint little café nearby the station… um, I can’t quite recall the name? It was somewhat flowery with a girl’s name…” Saori said, as she sat out Mamoru’s fancy looking plates and held them up to him wordlessly while he carefully placed the slices – it looked like clockwork, the way they moved together, sitting side by side, and Usagi swallowed.

 

“Makoto’s Pastry Garden,” Usagi smiled around the turmoil in her gut, eyeing the cakes as Mamoru lifted them from the box and onto the outstretched plates that Saori held up to him. She would recognize them anywhere. And strangely, it made her feel like Mako-chan was suddenly in this room with her, holding her hand through this entire mess in her head via cake.

 

“Oh yes, that’s the one!” Saori smiled, even when Mamoru blinked in recognition. “Do you know it?”

 

Usagi nodded eagerly “I do! It’s my friend’s café!”

 

Saori blinked, looked down at the beautiful treat of a cake slice.

 

“Oh, really?” she asked, surprise in her big, green eyes, but more towards the cake. “The charming, beautiful brunette?”

 

Usagi’s smile turned wider – she loved it when people called her Mako-chan beautiful so very much, and promised herself not to forget to tell Mako-chan about it as soon as possible.

 

She leant forward in her perch on Mamoru’s leather couch and reached across the table to accept the plate Saori reached out to her.

 

Mako-chan’s marzipan cake with nougat buttercream. It suddenly felt like a lifeline, and she grabbed the plate with both hands and a little too powerfully.

 

Calm down, this is normal, you’re just meeting your roommate’s girlfriend. It doesn’t say on your forehead you dreamt weird things about him last night. It doesn’t. _And_ , it’s not like they meant anything. At all.

 

The turmoil almost kept her from digging into this cake that seemed to take on the willing job of support system. Well, for a moment, anyway. This wasn’t only cake, this was _Makoto’s cake_ , and so with the first bite, the yummy won out.

 

Saori proceeded to talk about Makoto and her cakes, and Usagi smiled and nodded and chimed in, wiping errant buttercream off her cheek in between, and somehow, her stomach fell and fell.

 

Saori was perfect. Bright green eyes and sleek dark hair, petite (Saori was even shorter than her!) and utterly chic. She wore a blouse and pencil skirt that looked absolutely flawless on her, and yet effortless. She sat with her knees together and glamorously tipped to one side, sat straight, talked with words that were eloquent and polite and yet very, very kind. She was the kind of woman that belonged on a magazine cover. Or, at least in a picture frame on someone’s mantle, with the words “Japanese Ideal Woman” in bold letters underneath.

 

She was sophisticated, well-mannered, no hair out of place, educated, flawless. She was everything Usagi was not.

 

She was the kind of woman Usagi admired. A little like Rei, maybe, just friendlier. Much, much friendlier.

 

In fact, Usagi liked her immediately. Granted, maybe Saori wouldn’t be joining her in a Mario Kart tournament anytime, soon. But Saori was the kind of woman Usagi had in mind anytime she felt bad about not being… more.

 

She couldn’t place the pit of dread in her stomach. The bile in the back of her throat.

 

And yet she couldn’t keep from looking back at Mamoru, time and time again, while Saori talked.

 

He sat beside her. And somehow, he sat a little straighter, a little taller, a little more serious beside her. More… collected? And even quieter than he normally was.

 

More mature than he already was as it is.

 

Maybe that was how Mamoru really was, when he wasn’t around her.

 

Usagi frowned into her cake, but her eyes didn’t stray away from him.

 

They looked good together, next to each other…

 

And _shitdamn_ did the thought hurt.

 

And _shitdamn_ was it inappropriate that her mind chose this very moment, droning out Saori’s praise of the cake, to stray back to the feeling of her thighs pressed against his against the backdrop of the rumbling, roaring feel of his motorcycle engine beneath her. Of the way his muscles flexed as she held on tight, hands against his stomach.

 

And they strayed back to Minako’s words.

 

_“So, we’re back to having the hots for roommate?”_

 

She exhaled. Slowly. No, no, no. Please, no.

 

She was sure there was some special part of hell reserved for people like her. For people who sat across from a woman and her boyfriend and fantasized about said boyfriend’s abs and how they felt to touch on a roaring motorcycle, she was sure of it. And here she was, sitting across from her roommate and watching, as if in slow motion, how he crossed his leg over the other and ran his hand through this obnoxiously perfect hair, while this picture perfect and utterly lovely woman that was his girlfriend sat beside him with this open and so perfectly genuine smile for Usagi.

 

Usagi did what she always did in times of confusion. She leaned forward and shoveled that gorgeous cake down her throat like she was starving. Denial by chocolate.

 

It didn’t help her mind from running off on her, though. Imagining the way how this awfully perfect man proposed to this awfully perfect woman awfully romantically. How their awfully perfect children would look like. How their awfully perfect sex probably was—

 

“Hmmm… it’s _really_ good!” Saori said with an appreciative, low hum in her throat, and Usagi froze.

 

What...? Had she… Usagi blanched.

 

“The cake,” Saori said, waving her fork around her plate – she’d barely eaten any of that slice yet. “Please tell your friend she is an artist with an apron,”

 

Usagi exhaled, giggled stupidly, too loudly. “Um, I will.”

 

Mamoru frowned at her, caught her eye, and she froze again.

 

Then he gestured towards his own cheek, waving his finger around. “You’ve got a little…”

 

Usagi jumped in her spot, blushing, and brought her fingers up to her own face to wipe away a swirl of nougat buttercream. Of course… Of. Fucking. Course.

 

Mamoru cleared his throat, and got up. “Another cup?” he asked towards Saori, who nodded gracefully.

 

Then he turned to Usagi. “Cocoa?” he asked.

 

She blushed again. Felt suddenly so out of place, the way those two drank those posh freshly roasted South American coffee beans he liked to buy from that little specialty shop and grinded from scratch, and she drank the cheapo cocoa mix from the kid’s drinks section from Donki, with cream and chocolate sparkles when she had them.

 

She shook her head, declining, and he frowned, but walked off with his and Saori’s cup and saucer.

 

Saori smiled, graciously ignoring the incident, and placed her own – barely even half eaten! – plate back on the doily placemat Mamoru had provided, exactly in the middle.

 

Usagi didn’t know why she suddenly reverted back into the behavior of a middle schooler. What made her suddenly feel so inferior and small and made her talk like she was 15, at most, but apparently, it was all she was capable of.

 

“Do you want to see my room?” were the words that spilled out of her.

 

Usagi flinched. Scratch 15. Take 8.

 

Saori blinked, but then laughed. It was a gentle laugh, a kind laugh, and she nodded, and smoothed out her skirt before getting up in a way that belonged in a bloody photo shoot.

 

Then she winked at Usagi and held her hand in front of her mouth. “I’ve been wanting to see it, but thought it impolite to ask,” she almost whispered, in a way that sounded like an almost embarrassed confession. “I’m so curious to see Motoki’s old room with a feminine touch!”

 

Usagi swallowed, wanted to smack her own head. Saori had come close, trailing after her, and Usagi could, for just a second, smell a little whiff of perfume from the other, ever so slightly smaller woman.

 

The woman even _smelled_ perfect.

 

Usagi switched on the lights in her room, and with Saori’s little gasp, the knot in her stomach finally lifted, and Usagi smiled.

 

“Oh, Usagi!” Saori said, putting a hand to her chest.

 

Usagi’s smiled turned wider, and her shoulders dropped from their tensed up position.

 

She looked into her own room. She’d cleaned up for Saori, did her bed in the closest approximation she could to the way Makoto had done it on her first night here. The string lights above her bed flickered in their warm light, the little bunny lamp she’d placed inside her shelf illuminated the little wall of picture frames that had grown since she’d first moved here.

 

It may be more a girl’s room than a woman’s room, granted, and maybe she would never be the perfect adult woman that Saori was, no matter how old Usagi was, but damn was her girl’s room pretty.

 

And, it seemed, Saori agreed – at least judging by the way Saori smiled and giggled about her knick knacks and obviously, in this moment, turned a little younger herself.

 

* * *

 

 

It was almost an hour later, after Usagi had left with her bright camera bag over her shoulder, that Saori sat down on the couch with a soft bounce and a sigh that almost sounded relieved, and that totally confused him.

 

“You were right,” she said with a smile, “the room looks much lovelier with her décor than it did with Motoki’s. It’s really sweet like that!”

 

He nodded, swallowed, and set a new cup of coffee in front of her, then settled beside her.

 

Saori leaned forward, took the offered coffee cup eagerly. “Did you see her books?” she asked. But it seemed rhetoric, even when he nodded, since she continued on with a small, not at all unkind giggle. “All Manga and Foodist Tokyo guides and artwork of her favorite animators. She really is adorable,” Saori said with a smile and a little sigh as she settled back into the cushions and took a sip of her coffee with an appreciative nod in his direction.

 

He frowned, lifted his own cup to his lips.

 

“What does she do?” Saori asked after a moment of silence.

 

He threw her a look. Had he really not talked about this before? And then he settled his cup back on its saucer, and grabbed his laptop from the coffee table.

 

He typed, then turned the screen around for her.

 

Saori blinked. “A YouTube channel?”

 

He shrugged. “It’s not the biggest, but she gets some money off it in ad revenue and small sponsorships.”

 

Saori took the laptop from him. Scrolled. “A food channel? Does she cook on it?”

 

He snorted, and broke out laughing. “No, no she doesn’t cook,” he said between chuckles.  “She eats.”

 

Saori blinked, surprised, and looked back at the screen. It was colorful, the thumbnails bright and cheerful. “All those subscribers watch her eat?”

 

He blushed, and tried to cover it up immediately by awkwardly kneading his chin with his hand as he thought, again, about the way she moaned into her food.

 

“Her way all around Tokyo, yes,” he said, clearing his throat, “they do.”

 

Unwittingly, he had to think of Minako’s explanation. One of the first times Usagi had had the woman over, much to his (and his neighbors’) annoyance. One of the nights he’d made the error of judgements and actually talked to her for a little while.

 

 _‘It’s the food-gasms, y’know_ ’, Minako had said, and grabbed a few kernels of popcorn from the bowl, _‘Nobody does them quite like her.’_

 

Saori blinked, scrolled through the screen. “Wow…” she said, green eyes a little wide.

 

He frowned, felt the sudden need to defend Usagi, even when Saori hadn’t even said anything, and were the _last_ person to _ever_ talk condescendingly, but the taken aback look as she scrolled through Usagi’s videos like that…

 

He cleared his throat. “She does reviews,” he said. “Food reviews. Of Tokyo restaurants and cafes and Japanese products.”

 

He leaned forward, over her shoulder and scrolled down for her. “Her limited-edition reviews, for one. Like this one, here?” he stopped on a video, and she nodded against his shoulder.

 

“Restaurants book her, too. Sometimes she gets to interview star-chefs! She makes some money with it, and it's growing day by day.”

 

Saori smiled at a video, stopped to read through the description, and giggled.

 

It was Usagi’s ‘ _The BEST ICE CREAM IN THE wOrLd 10 times?!_ ’ video. In the thumbnail, she was licking at an ice cream cone stacked higher than her face.

 

He swallowed, shrugged. “She also has a volunteer’s job somewhere, once or twice per week. But she never really talks much about that one…”

 

“Right,” Saori said with a smile.

 

He awkwardly put his hand into his neck, but Saori settled back against the couch, and against him.

 

“I’m glad,” she said, and lifted her cup of coffee back to her lips.

 

He blinked. “You’re glad?” he asked, and hoped his tone wasn’t as surprised as he thought it was.

 

“Yes,” Saori said, still smiling that gentle, gentle smile of hers. “She’s a sweet, sweet girl.”

 

Mamoru blinked. What was this?

 

Then Saori shrugged, and her smile turned a little wider, and her nose wrinkled. “And not at _ALL_ your type. I was concerned there for a little while.”

 

Mamoru’s eyes widened, and he coughed, just a little, into his coffee. “Uh…”

 

Saori looked at him sheepishly, as if she’d been caught, as if…

 

His gut fell, all the rotten feeling returning. Saori had no clue. No clue at all. And somehow it was even worse.

 

Would she just see… would they just talk it through, because she saw… because then he wouldn’t have to be the one with the courage to address it…

 

He swallowed.

 

“I’m sorry, that sounds bad, doesn’t it?” Saori said with a concerned frown, turning to him, and took his hand. “I promise, I wasn’t jealous, not really, I trust you, you’ve _never_ given me any reason not to trust you completely, but,” she wrinkled her nose again, and Mamoru’s mouth fell open. What was happening? How—

 

“I mean… it was a woman who moved in with you, so…” Saori blushed, just a little, just barely, and shrugged.

 

“But don’t worry. Now that I met her?” Saori said with a smile. “I’m completely soothed. She’s the _last_ person you would go for,” she said, giggling into her hand.

 

“And she's really cute too!” she added. “I really like her. She’s so happy and bubbly!”

 

Then she batted her eyelashes with a smirk. “She must be driving you insane with that.”

 

He swallowed. His throat felt like sandpaper, dry and painful, and he nodded.

 

It almost felt a little like an out of body experience for Mamoru.

 

He should say something. He should apologize, confess… confess what exactly? But… Saori sighed, leaned back, her head turning towards him on the cushions.

 

“I’m so relieved!” she smiled.

 

His gut fell, the maggots were back, crawling their way into his throat.

 

“Uh… yeah…” he said.

 

Then she shifted, and her smile fell, and his gut tightened even more. That’s it, she knows, she—

 

“But… that was a lie, before,” Saori said, voice smaller. “If I’m completely honest. I _am_ a little jealous. I can’t help it, I’m sorry.”

 

Mamoru’s heart sped up, and he scooted closer. He took her hand – she laced her fingers through his, automatically, and held on tight. Tighter than usual.

 

How could he explain this? Lust, it was lust. It was bound to happen. But he wouldn’t… He’d chosen Saori, and he was adamant to stay loyal to both her and that choice? How could he say that – admit this –in a way that wouldn’t hurt her…

 

She flexed her fingers in his, and smiled – it was small, a little embarrassed.

 

No, why would she—

 

“Full disclosure. I trust you, fully, but...” she began.

 

His throat constricted. He was supposed to urge her to continue but he couldn't.

 

She scrunched up her nose apologetically. "I mean, I know that living together… bonds? You see her in her pajamas, you ask each other about your days in the kitchen... it brings two people close, the routine and normalcy.”

 

He frowned. This wasn’t…

 

“I mean…” she said, with a wink, that drove straight into this horrifying place in his gut, “in your case probably more like a little sister, but you know what I mean.”

 

He swallowed “... yeah.”

 

She cleared her throat, and smiled that small, hopeful smile that today broke his heart.

 

“I would like to have that with you too, one day.”

 

He exhaled, and nodded slowly.

 

“I promise,” he whispered.

 

He didn’t know who he promised it to more, Saori or him, and he didn’t know why it felt so desperate. So scared. So…

 

But it was way later, when Saori left the apartment, and her gaze settled on a little photo tucked into a picture frame she’d seen here since she knew him, that her gut made that tiny, miniscule jump, and her throat ran dry.

 

They looked good together… this bright bubble that was Usagi and her fiancé…

 

She shook her head, slipping out.

 

Don’t be silly. It’s just a photo. He’s not even looking particularly happy or handsome in it. Usagi probably took it _and_ put it there.

 

It’s nothing.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time Usagi returned, Mamoru had cleaned the cups, cleaned the coffee machine, cleaned the counter, cleaned the refrigerator and frowned his way through it all.

 

This, somehow, was worse than Saori looking right through him. It irked him, the thought that, quite obviously, he was capable of deceiving her so.

 

It crawled in his fingers. He had the urge to pick up his phone, call her, tell her to come back, confess these horny, impure feelings that he was pushing down, he promised, they were nothing, he promised…

 

What kept him back, every time he put the phone back down… was it really fair, to burden her with this, when he knew he wasn’t going to act on these feelings, wouldn’t do this to her? Was it fair to hurt her only to unburden his own conscience?

 

Was he only telling himself this so he wouldn’t feel quite so rotten?

 

Plus… he would have to talk about these feelings, if he did. And… no.

 

Maybe it was time to move out. Maybe it was time to close the door on this apartment, and Usagi, look for a new place with Saori and never look back…

 

It was a sudden thought, and the wave of emotion and recoiling panic, of _loss_ , he felt with it threw him momentarily.

 

Usagi found him in the kitchen. Gear still across her shoulders. She looked a little surprised, those impossibly gorgeous blue eyes a little wide. “Where’s…”

 

Mamoru blinked. “At home, of course,” he cocked his head to the side, put the cleaning rag down. “Where else would she be?”

 

Usagi rolled her eyes. “Right. It’s not Thursday or Sunday, how could I have been so bold to assume.”

 

Mamoru blinked at her, confused.

 

Usagi shook her head. “Nevermind…”

 

He cleared his throat, turned back to the sink and lathered a sponge in soap, before opening the microwave, and starting to wipe it down. Usagi, he saw out of the corner of his eye, settled herself on one of his two narrow, foldable high stools and sat at his small, high, stow-away breakfast table that he could never actually stow-away anymore these days, because she kept putting random stuff on it.

 

Right now, she dropped two heavy, full, pink bags on the too small table.

 

“How was your patisseur?” he asked, and lifted the glass platform out of the microwave to give it a rinse.

 

Usagi let out a moan, low and appreciative, and he felt himself reacting. “SO CUTE!” she cried.

 

He pursed his lips, fought the sudden rise of irritation as she proceeded to go on to gush about the young, handsome, ‘ _delicious’_ pastry chef and wouldn’t _THAT_ be something if _SHE_ —

 

“Right”, he interrupted her, a little loud, and she cocked her head to the side.

 

Her voice had risen a little as she’d talked, became harried. When he turned, he could see her fidget, and so he turned his back to her and lathered the platform in too much soap.

 

She blinked, but continued. Her voice was normal, now. Still excited, but less… staged.

 

“Well, also it was amazing. They had this warm, moist, caramelized marshmallow with an _ice cream core_ inside coated with dark chocolate and _oh my god, Mamo-chan_ , you have _no_ idea…”

 

“Right,” he said again. But this time he said it with a chuckle. Relaxed. Relieved.

 

“Anyway,” she said, and pushed at her bags on the table.  “I bought a fondue set on the way home.”

 

He snorted. “Of course you did.”

_“What_?” she huffed.

 

He chuckled. “Nothing.”

 

“Anyway,” she said, and wiggled at one of the bags again. “I also bought stuff _for_ it. So, fondue tonight?”

 

He turned around, threw her a look. “But it’s gyudon night!”

 

Her face twisted into the most adorable scowl he’d ever seen.

 

“ _No more gyudon_!” she growled, low and menacing and all too cute.

 

He chuckled, held up his hands in surrender, and she slipped from the kitchen – leaving the bags unpacked behind, and he rolled his eyes and put the perishables she’d forgotten about in the fridge.

 

Usagi collapsed on her bed with a growl, and buried her face into her comforter.

 

She felt the urge to yell into it, but refrained from doing so.

 

The patisseur _had_ been cute. Incredibly so. But, every single moment of watching that smile, she’d compared it to a more crooked, more smirking smile. With bluer eyes and darker hair and…

 

She rolled onto her back and glared at the ceiling.

 

No. No. _No_. Forbidden.

 

With renewed resolve she pushed herself up and started changing. Out of the cute summer dress, into her pjs.

 

When she went back out, Mamoru was in the bathroom. She could hear the sound of rushing water, and had to blink back the image of him under it, and the urge to walk inside and take a look. It would be so, so easy…

 

 _No. No. No. You’re going insane_. Minako is _wrong_.

 

She had to swallow, thickly, when she walked into the kitchen and saw he’d already sliced the fruit, put it into several little bowls and cut the chocolate into small pieces.

 

On a whim, she fished for his wooden tablet in the top shelf above the stove, and proceeded to carry it all into the living room. Then, she pushed back one of the couches, piled the cushions on his ugly green, but fluffy rug, and put a tea candle beneath the fondue bowl and fountain… and proceeded to just add a few more candles.  And a few more, even, getting them one by one from her room where they’d been stored in a box from a previous night picnic vlog shoot she’d done with Minako and a couple bottles of champagne she’d tested for the camera.

 

When she was done, she switched off the light, clapped her hands in delight, looking at her handywork.

 

It was a beautiful, little candle-lit chocolate fondue picnic, illuminated in warm, gentle light.

 

Her heart jumped again, when Mamoru – now in sweatpants and t-shirt, hair wet and falling into his face - exited the bathroom and froze at the sight.

 

She blinked.

 

Was this too much? Was this wrong to do? Should she… not?

 

She hadn’t even thought about if… It was something she would have done with the girls, too…

 

She frowned, when he walked in, and settled down onto the rug beside her. He sat a little far away from her.

 

The mood was suddenly uncomfortable. And she could smell his shampoo, clean and …

 

She bit her lip. Shook her head.

 

“Saori is really nice…” she said. More to herself, maybe.

 

He frowned. “Yes, she is.”

 

Usagi swallowed, and moved jerkily. She handed him a skewer, jumped a little when their hands brushed briefly, and started to attack her first strawberry with one.

 

He cleared his voice. “She liked you too.”

 

Usagi blinked. “Yeah?”

 

He nodded.

 

And somehow, the atmosphere turned even more awkward, and the silence a little tense.

 

Usagi sighed. Leaned her head against the back of the couch and pressed her knees together, digging her hands into her too short PJ bottoms – vowing again to learn how that goddamn washing machine worked without Mamoru’s help.

 

She couldn’t help but notice the quick glance at her legs that he tried to cover up.

 

She cleared her throat.

“So, any _past_ flames?” she said, instead, and flinched. What a weird thing to say. What a weird thing to think about, but it was the first thing that popped into her head, and she so desperately wanted to change the topic.  

 

He turned back and dipped the piece of fruit into the chocolate fountain. It dripped a little, and he caught the excess chocolate with his other hand. It distracted her too much.

 

“No,” he said, without looking, without emotion, as he licked the chocolate off his hand.

 

Usagi stared at him. “What, no??” she said, her voice rising a little.

 

He shrugged. “No,” he repeated. Didn’t look at her. “Saori was my first girlfriend.”

 

Usagi blinked. “Huh,” she made, voice deflating, and her shoulders, too.  “So, you’re like, _really_ committed, huh?”

 

She flinched again. _Baka_ , she yelled at her mind. Of course, he is.

 

He shrugged.

 

She held her breath, realized with a frown, that it was the first time they were talking about this. Ever. Ever since he’d admitted to meeting his fiancée on that very first night of living here, they’d never talked about it at all. In fact, the word fiancée had never again fallen in this household.

 

So, she felt herself tensing up before broaching the subject. “And you’re getting married?”

 

He shrugged again. “We don’t have a date yet.”

 

She ignored the throb in her gut, smacked her lips a little, and her voice turned a little pressed. “Who proposed? Was it really romantic?”

 

He shifted, it looked as if he were uncomfortable “Uh…” he started with a frown. “No one proposed, really.”

 

Usagi threw him a bewildered look, and he shrugged again.

 

“We were talking about insurance, and it was cheaper in the long run if we’d be married… so we sat down and talked about it and agreed that it would be… the logical thing to do.”

 

She frowned. Hard. “That’s the saddest story I’ve ever heard.”

 

He snorted, and rolled his eyes. She couldn’t help but think it seemed a little defensive. “Well, not everyone believes in fairy tales,” he said, somewhat tensely.

 

She gaped at him. “Fairy Tales?!” she exclaimed. “You think love is a fairy tale? Butterflies and passion and… dying if you can’t be with this person, not being able to breathe when they’re around because you get so nervous…”

 

He shrugged, and impaled a little piece of pineapple with his little fondue skewer. “Well, I’ve not experienced that…”

 

And then he frowned, really hard, threw her a curious look, and shook his head, before his face hardened again.

 

In reality, his stomach had dropped with the knowledge that maybe this was a lie, that his heart fluttered every time he looked at her. But he wasn’t stupid enough to mistake infatuation and attraction with a stable, safe love.

 

She pursed her lips.

 

“What about you then?” Mamoru said, pressing his lips together in irritation and trying to at least somewhat steer the conversation away from him and Saori.

 

“Eh?” she made, surprised.

 

“Any ‘past flames’?” he said, and noticed even when he said it how his mood dropped and the word turned into a grumble, but she seemed not to notice, as she held a pronged strawberry under the chocolate stream and proceeded to pop it into her mouth with the kind of moan he was now used to from her but that nevertheless didn’t fail its effect on him.

 

She shrugged. “There was that brief period in Middle School with one of my classmates, but it didn’t last long. His sister was kinda creepy and overall… he seemed nicer in the beginning,” she mumbled over a chocolate strawberry, and then swallowed and held another into the dark, thick pool of chocolate.

 

“Then in high school I was with another guy who was in a pop band, which was kinda awesome, but more like dating your best friend I guess, and then…”

 

He shook his head, irritated with the way this affected him, and scrunched his eyes shut for just a moment. “Right, right, I get it.”

 

“Wait, that wasn’t all!”

 

“Yeah, I’m sure…” he sighed.

 

She frowned at him, held her skewer toward him and it dropped chocolate from her raspberry and onto his leg, but she didn’t notice. “I told you… I fall in love very easily,” she said, somewhat awkwardly, before letting the berry disappear between her lips and he had to look away.

 

He frowned once more, concerned it might become a permanent look on him where she was concerned. And then he sighed, deeply.

 

Maybe it was stupid, letting his guard down like that, speaking of something that had bothered him… his whole life, but…

 

She’d done the same, recently, hadn’t she? Talking from the heart, so maybe…

 

He swallowed. “I don't... isn't this a giant sham? Being in love? What does that even mean…” he said in a smaller voice.

 

She looked at him as if he’d told her he’d murdered someone, or that he personally liked to eat little kittens for breakfast. “... _What_??!” she exclaimed, rather loud and shrill, and he shrunk back a little.

 

He scrunched up his nose. “In love... I mean,” he swallowed, looked at her legs briefly, and then rubbed his hands across his face, “in _lust_ , sure, but... in love? Does that even really exist?”

 

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN?” she yelped.

 

“I mean… even the _idea_ of love… and if it’s something positive or not… that’s… It’s really new, if you look at it historically?” his eyes flew to hers, and he cringed at her absolutely shocked look.

 

He inclined his head, stared hard and frowning into the flowing, creamy chocolate. “I mean … take ancient Greece?” he shifted, moved almost defensively. “To them, passionate attraction for someone was considered a delusional madness that had nothing to do with relationships. Instead, they admired platonic love as the highest form of admiration. Courtly love, idolized in the European middle ages, was something seen as elegant and innocent that was, by the way, _completely_ adulterous, since it was a ‘noble quest’ partaken by an unmarried man towards a married woman! And over the next _hundreds_ of years, love and passion was seen as something dangerous, a trapdoor straight into hell. When there was passion there was the promise of doom. The idea that love was something good and pure, something that could lead to a happy ending… it took until the 1800s to take root as an ideal, and even then, it still was not the norm…”

 

He didn’t look at her, just frowned harder, kept going. “And, even now… the idea that passionate love is the key to happiness… Studies overwhelmingly say it’s _friendship_ that is the best prediction for two people to stay together. Passionate love declines. And isn’t that… proof it’s not all people claim it to be? It’s a fancy, new concept that doesn’t even… might not…” He couldn’t finish the thought. The word ‘exist’ didn’t leave his tongue, and he swallowed it down instead, and shook his head.

 

He sighed, put his skewer into the next slice of fruit, and listlessly turned and turned and turned it in the chocolate without lifting it back out. “I mean... I do love Saori,” he said, and stubbornly looked at the way the chocolate flowed over his skewer. “We have the same interests, we have a routine, it’s easy and comfortable and right. She gets me. She has always supported me and was always there for me, and I can't imagine what life would be like without her, she’s my partner,” he said, and frowned, and looked at the way Usagi had shrunken a little in her perch and averted her eyes down to her own skewer. “But…” he said, and exhaled, and this time she looked up at him.

 

He shook his head. This was silly. He shrugged. “I am pretty sure if I would ask her she would agree that there weren't these silly moments where your heart sped up and you start sweating just by thinking to see each other like they tell you in these...” he frowned, gesticulated towards her pile of manga for the month that lay strewn around his apartment. “That… only happens when you're in _lust_. When you're nervous. Not when...“ he broke off, nodded to himself in a curt, sudden movement.

 

She looked appalled, when he lifted his eyes back up. “Oh my god. You must be the most unromantic stone on earth.”

 

He chuckled. “Because I'm not delusional? C'mon Usa, I'm realistic!”

 

She moved to her knees, in a movement so quick and uncoordinated she would have knocked over the bowl of melted chocolate weren’t his reflexes what they were.

 

“ _No_!!” she yelped. “Oh my god, Mamo-chan, this is so sad! Did you never... did you… never...” she blinked, sat back on her heels.

 

Her eyes were wide, her cheeks were flushed, and her lips opened that miniscule amount, and they trembled a little as she breathed hard, and he couldn’t help but watch the slight tremor of her lower lip as she started to speak, and the way her lips moved around her words in a way that made him want to…

 

He scrunched his eyes shut, blocked her out, but her voice still permeated his bubble.

 

“That moment…” she breathed, too near, “when you get to know someone, and your entire being gets obsessed with needing to know this person, to be around them… how you can’t think of anyone more interesting and important than this one person… and it feels like someone turned on the lights and the sound and the saturation of all the colors when you’re with them… and then…” her voice broke off, and he swallowed, before she started again in a voice so urgent, so…

 

“…later, the way your hands tremble and your gut hurts and everything hurts because you just need to kiss them, and you dream of them and feel like you can’t breathe a second longer that you don’t breathe into their mouth and—"

 

He got up, suddenly.

 

No. _No_.

 

“You’re wrong,” he said, rather rudely, and she straightened back up and sat back on her heels with eyes wide and confused.

 

He slammed the door to his bedroom, fell on his bed without turning on the lights.

 

She’s wrong. What she's describing is lust. She’s wrong.

 

He has felt this. But not with Saori… And so, she’s wrong.

 

He loved Saori. What Usagi described was wrong. It must be.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there you go ; )
> 
> In a way, this scene is what this fic started with. At least, the second part of it, the fiancé/Saori part. I re-watched episode 132, and it had this scene where they were all eating cake, sweet and lovely Saori with her pure dream mirror (and Kobayashi) on the one side, Usagi and Mamoru (and Chibs) on the other. And I thought… what if it were reversed? Obviously, that thought then spiraled into very, very different directions and uses, and kinda merged with this whole separate roommate idea I’d had, but…  
> This is where thought number two comes into play:  
> I know a few people have been waiting for me to turn Saori into the stereotypical, manically jealous “other woman”. Into the villain of this story. And others have been getting sliiightly mad at me for not doing the opposite, for doing this to her (and Mamoru) at all. Which I get, totally! And, so, let me give you a little explanation, on why this is neither of these two things.   
> I have been Saori before. Twice, in fact, in two previous relationships. And it's no coincidence that I set it up this way - that I am Saori and the other couple is the OTP?  
> So often, this story is dished to us with one woman turning out to be an utter witch that no person in their right mind could have ever wanted anyway. Or the two women fight over the guy ridiculously. But, let’s face it, that is not realistic. At least to me, that is one of the most unrealistic tropes in existence, and also a pretty sexist narrative that we all grew to like and believe because we get it presented to us so often, mostly by Hollywood? I want to tell this story realistically. With good people in a shitty situation. With what it does to you when it happens and caught you off guard.  
> So, in a way, you could say this story is me reconciling with what I lived through in the past. This is me forgiving, in a way. And how can I forgive more than putting my OTP in the shoes of those that hurt me before? And I do absolutely believe that love can come out of nowhere. And it’s no one’s fault if it happens under less than stellar circumstance – it can still be a beautiful love! Because these things happen, and you can be a nice person in a good and comfortable relationship and then meet the love of your life.  
>  (In the end, it worked out for me of course. I also met the love of my life - and got a little later that they were right, that there was more to this thing called love than I had known before!)  
> And, well, this is a complicated set-up, and a shitty situation, and there is no way people would walk out of this without getting hurt, however much they try to spare the other's feeling. No one was out to get me, and neither is Mamoru out to purposefully hurt Saori. And mostly because he denies these feelings for so long, tries to resist, tries to stay true to something he feels loyal to, he’s in danger of hurting her perhaps even more so.  
> And yes... I set up to write a romantic comedy, and the comedic elements of this story are SO important to me, but I also wove in it a very personal narrative of betrayal, the question 'when does cheating start', and Mamoru as the kind-of-accidental-villain of this story who never wanted to hurt anyone.
> 
> So yeah. This is where we are at, and I hope you’ll stick along for the rest ; )   
> Please tell me what you think of this chapter, of Saori, of our OTP!


	9. Chapter 9

Although, as autumns go, it was a rather mild one, it was a pretty chilly evening, and Usagi slung her first, light scarf of the season tighter around her neck, as she quickened her step through the illuminated, buzzling streets of nighttime Juuban.

 

The whimsical, almost antique looking neon sign that hung above the entrance of Mako-chan’s café was already switched off, and so were the fairy lights that were strung around and around the lush flower boxes and in between the thick rose bushes growing from it that lined the entrance, and the white, ornate, outdoor iron chairs were tipped against the tables and fastened with bike locks.

 

Of course, there was still light coming from the parts farther into the little café, and Usagi knocked against the glass of the picture window.

 

Makoto appeared just a few seconds later, and Usagi could hear the lock turn from inside, before the door swung open for her.

 

“There you are!” Makoto said with a smile, and held the door open for Usagi to slip in, then locked again behind her.

 

“Sorryyyy,” she mumbled, along with excuses, and made her way through the darkened front part into the back.

 

“Minako was just telling us about her latest job. Apparently, the _main_ hand model on set was totally flirting with her,” Makoto updated with a chuckle.

 

“She totally was!” Minako called, rather offended, and bit into her éclair. “A shmexy beasht with a perfect manicure,” she said, mouth full, and Rei rolled her eyes into her coffee cup.

 

Usagi produced a rather appreciative, low and hungry growl, as she hugged both Minako and Rei hello, and sat down at the small table.

 

Sometimes, when Makoto had a particularly large amount of leftovers from the day, they would do this. Meet after hours, and eat their weight in cake and pastries. It was Usagi’s favorite thing in the world – even if, the nearer her state exam came, the more often they were missing Ami.

 

And while, yes, the strawberry cream and white chocolate mousse cake pretty much _almost_ made all the problems in the world disappear, and she almost cried into her first bite with all the gratitude of being friends with the most talented food artist in the friggin _world_ , Makoto immediately picked up on the sound of her very desperate food moan that there was something amiss.

 

“What’s wrong?” she said, completely interrupting Minako mid nail polish tone description in Pantone color codes for the hand model in question, and three sets of eyes settled on Usagi expectantly.

 

And they turned a little worried, when Usagi inhaled deeply, and sighed long and hard, both her shoulders and the corners of her mouth dropping.

 

“I… might… be a little in love with my roommate.”

 

Rei and Minako fell back in their chairs, scoffing at her, reacting with theatrical eyerolls and ‘no shit, Sherlock’ expressions, while Makoto’s smile just turned a little sympathetic, and she patted Usagi’s hand with a sad sigh.

 

“A little?!!” Rei repeated with raised eyebrows.

 

Usagi pursed her lips. Yeah… they’d probably been right.

 

She sighed again, and with an all wrinkled up forehead, she punched her fork into her cake, and stuffed a jumbo-sized misery-bite into her mouth, chewing with lowered eyebrows and a pout.

 

Food. The only thing that always helped. Even in shitty situations like this.

 

Because now that she was realizing it… her heart was in her throat anytime she saw him. And he looked fucking _delicious_ in the mornings, or whenever he crawled out of bed after a night shift and slept during the day, all bedridden and disheveled and sleepy and, and…

 

“He just walked around in a skimpy, tiny _towel_ after his shower this morning, when I got out to go to the bathroom…” she said with a groan, “I felt all… all...”

 

“Horny?”

 

“MINAKO,” Rei and Makoto both scolded, absolutely on auto-pilot, not even looking at her.

 

Usagi sighed. “She’s not wrong...”

 

She groaned, fell back in her chair, and inhaled her next misery bite. “Why does a _doctor_ need _abs_ like that, exactly? And I tell you, that towel was _really fucking small_ , I could…”

 

She broke off, shook her head. “He wasn’t even really phased. That I saw him, I mean. As if he’d…”

 

She shook her head again, with a deep sigh this time.

 

“I have sex dreams about him…” she confessed, glaring at her fork, and stuffing it angrily into her mouth.

 

“USAGI!” Rei yelped, and Minako jabbed Rei in the arm, appalled, with a look of ‘let the woman _talk_ , will you?!’

 

Usagi sighed. “It complicates things,” she said, quiet and sad.

 

“No shit,” came the reply, rather dryly.

 

Rei sighed, and settled her coffee cup back onto its saucer with a little click. “So, how was meeting Saori exactly?” she said, and Usagi immediately flinched.

 

Minako almost imploded, and crumbs of her éclair splattered across the table as she leaned forward and cried, “YOU MET SAORI? WHY DON’T I KNOW ABOUT THIS?”

 

Makoto still sported that small, sad smile for her, and pushed a plate with the biggest slice of leftover almond and mascarpone cream cake towards Usagi, and Usagi attacked it without even having finished chewing the last bite of her previous cake.

 

“Even a second time, by now,” Usagi said, armed with her fork. “She came by for dinner with Motoki and Reika,” she said with a flinch, and Makoto next to her grimaced right along.

 

“It was all classy with coasters and appetizers and boring dinner conversations about the pH value of like, sand in shovel test pits and some new road traffic act that causes more required police reporting and documentation in all these fancy words, and Mamoru and Saori cooked this perfect meal together in the kitchen. I was totally fifth wheel…”

 

“Aww, Usagi…” Makoto’s concerned tone caused a lump to form in Usagi’s throat, and she quickly filled it with mascarpone cream.

 

She swallowed, frowned. “Like, I fled into the bathroom at one point and called Ami to ask her about all of these different words just so that I could follow the conversation…”

 

Makoto sighed, and Minako cocked her head in that sad little sympathetic way, and leaned her elbows on the table. “… so, what’s Saori like?” she asked, completely carefully.

 

Minako could be very sensitive, when she wanted.

 

Usagi groaned into her hands and buried her face deeper. “She’s _super_ nice and friendly and _good_ and overall friggin’ _perfect_.”

 

Makoto cringed. “I’m sorry…”

 

Usagi stabbed her cake again, and ate with her mouth open, waving her fork around as she talked. “She like… she barely _has_ any free time and she went through ALL of my vlogs. And, like, left all these gorgeously sweet comments on _every single one_! _All_ of them! ALL THREE HUNDRED OF THEM. Not even _you_ do that, and you’re _in_ some of them!”

 

They whistled low and with some flinches.

 

“And like, at dinner, she kept bringing them up, and asked my opinion of all the food, and recommended all these individual videos of mine to Reika.”

 

She broke off, coughing. A crumb had lost its way down the wrong tube, and Makoto hit her in the back, and she swallowed, and continued right on, as if nothing had happened, shoveling the next bite in. “And they’re like… the _perfect_ couple. All elegance and sophistication and talking about advances in neurological studies.”

 

Minako crossed and uncrossed her leg, and used another éclair to point in Usagi’s direction with a thoughtful frown. “How perfect can they be, when they’re together for ten years and he’s living with you?”

 

“Minako!” Rei scolded. This time not in the scandalized, appalled way, but rather in the ‘not helping’ kind of way.

 

Minako shrugged and held up perfectly manicured hands defensively. “Just sayin’!” she said, and bit into her éclair.

 

“Like..like…” Usagi started, waving her fork again. “While _Mamoru_ was like, basically _ignoring_ my existence at that dinner table, Saori like, kept trying to get me into the conversation so I wouldn’t feel left out! Even more than _Motoki_ did!”

 

“Hm,” Makoto made, sympathetic eyes never leaving Usagi.

 

“In general, Mamoru’s been ignoring me ever since I first met Saori. He’s all… clipped and distant and… and…” Usagi frowned, leaving the thought behind for a different one, and then talked on. “And later that night, when I went to the bathroom and overheard their conversation in his room, I even heard her scolding him about it. How he should be nicer to me, and that I’m ‘such a sweet kid’.”

 

“Ouch,” both Makoto and Minako said, flinching.

 

“So, she stayed over?” Rei said with a careful cringe.

 

Usagi sighed into her cake bite. “Yes,” she said, shoulders dropping. “I hid in my bedroom with my headphones and like, almost _humming_ to myself to block all the head-cinema out, and still, when I went out later for some milk for like a second, I could hear her like, _totally_ strangled and trying to keep quiet half moans, half sighs…”

 

“Ouch…” Minako, again, this time, the sympathy dialed up even higher.

 

“I’m so sorry, Usagi,” Makoto said.

 

She took another bite, pouting around it, her mood not even lifting by the generous amount of whipped cream Makoto sprayed onto her plate.

 

And it _had_ been horrible… friggin’ agony. In fact… she’d _of course_ had an idea what ought to go on, on their Thursday and Sunday dates, before, when he was gone for the night, and it had been uncomfortable to think about _then_ , when she _didn’t_ realize his smile popped up whenever she closed her eyes and that he was a damn good hug when taxes were evil to her. But… now? And with her _hearing_ it? She’d curled into a ball on her bed and contemplated jumping out the window. It had hurt.

 

The table had fallen silent, except for uncomfortable staring into coffee cups and cake. She knew what they refrained from saying. The elephant in the room.

 

“I should move out…” she whispered, and this time, for once, she lowered her fork, didn’t take another bite.

 

They just looked at her.

 

Usagi sagged back against her chair. “I started looking at apartments online…” she said, eyes at her fork and tears threatening to prick at the corners of her eyes.

 

Makoto nodded, and Minako sighed, but no one said anything.

 

“I mean, I didn’t, like, put up a query, but…” she said, frowning. “But, if I find something I can afford, I will.”

 

Makoto nodded, once more. “I think that’s wise, Usagi-chan…”

 

Her eyes were all concern, and she knew she had no idea how much it hurt Usagi to hear it. Usagi _knew_ she was right, anyway…

 

“Do you want to come back live on with me?” Makoto said, and touched her arm. “My couch is always reserved for you, you know that…”

 

Usagi swallowed, shook her head, and willed on a smile. More for pride than anything else. “I’m ok for now …I think,” she said, then sighed deeply, shoulders moving. “I’ll try to… avoid him, and… it’s not like I’m gonna jump him.  I’m not a homewrecker.  I can do it, I think. Pretend I’m not… you know. … Just… I’m gonna keep on looking for cheap apartments meanwhile.”

 

Makoto nodded. “Ok.”

 

“Besides,” Usagi said, leaning forward again and picking her fork back up. “Mamoru’s not into _me_ , so there’s no risk, anyway.”

 

The girls threw each other looks. Minako frowned. “Didn’t Ami—”

 

Makoto’s eyes widened and there was movement underneath the table, both from Rei _and_ Makoto’s sides, and Minako shrieked, high pitched, and glared at both of them.

 

Usagi frowned.

 

“Nothing…” Minako mumbled.

 

Usagi shook her head, but let it go. She’d got different things on her mind, anyway.

 

…Like that horrible, irrational side of her that didn’t _want_ to move out, _no matter_ the circumstance, didn’t _want_ to give this up – _him_ up – just because of her stupid heart that couldn’t help but fall in love.

 

“Men and women can be friends, right?” she all but whispered into her cake.

 

Rei answered in a quiet voice. “They can… but it’s a lot harder when one of them is in love…”

 

Usagi nodded. She was pretty aware of the fact it would look utterly sad, and she couldn’t blame the girls for the pity in their eyes.

 

She groaned, and thumped her forehead against the table.

 

“I’m so horrible. I’m so despicable… how can I…” she groaned into the table, voice muffled by cherry wood.

 

“Nah, nah, Usagi.“ Makoto patted her back. “It’s not your fault.”

 

Usagi lifted her head, groaning again. “I have sex dreams about him. Yesterday, I sniffed his clothes!”

 

Rei and Makoto both flinched, Minako sighed.

 

“And I, like, …suddenly _everything I do for fun feels like a frigging date,_ and I can’t _do_ anything with him anymore, now that I know!”

 

Makoto’s nod turned even sadder.

 

“He smells like friggin’ _roses_. He _cooks for me_. Last week he made an extra plate of grilled salmon for _Luna_ , just in case she’d turn up!”

 

Makoto sighed, reached around again to pat Usagi on her hand. “You’re _not_ despicable. You have feelings for him. There’s nothing wrong with that per se. Just _acting_ on them would be…” Makoto broke off, but Usagi got the meaning wholeheartedly.

 

Usagi nodded. Vehemently.

 

“I won’t. I promise.”

 

The girls nodded with all individual sighs, and Usagi felt at least understood.

 

“Let us know when we can help with the apartment hunt, alright?” Rei said, and Usagi nodded once more.

 

Of course, the happy mood was ruined, even when the conversation came to a close. Which was a tragedy all on its own. It was Leftover Cake Party, after all. And now they all sat in gloomy silence for it.

 

Minako broke out of it first, straightening up, and leaning forward.

 

“Sooo,” Minako started, with a cheeky smile, breaking through the awkward atmosphere with all the skill of one Minako Aino. “Have you seen a little peen at least, when you snuck a look?”

 

Rei and Makoto both groaned in annoyance in Minako’s general direction, while Usagi’s eyes went wide, before she blushed a deep red and exploded.

 

“UGH! Minako! Oh my fucking god!”

 

Minako beamed right back.

 

“What??”

 

“I love it so, when you use that word,” Minako sighed almost happily. “Fucking,” she said with a fond, proud smile and matching voice, all the ‘I taught her so well’ displayed in the sparkle of her eyes.

 

“UGH!” Usagi’s elbows slumped on table, and her face into her hands.

 

Makoto chuckled, pat her shoulder sympathetically.

 

It was way later that night, that the tears finally started flowing, and pooled freely in Rei’s lap as she held her, wordlessly, brushing calming, slender fingers through blonde strands and along her scalp, over and over, as Makoto jumped to make her the best hot chocolate in the world.

 

But for now, Minako had her back to smiling. For now.

 

* * *

 

 

It was 2am, when he finally heard the lock turn, and Usagi slipped through the door.

 

He scolded himself for the little relieved drop in his gut. His hands stopped moving briefly, hovering just above the keyboard of his laptop. She usually didn’t stay out this late without at least mentioning where she was going. He was loathe to admit he’d been worried sick, even when her absence went very much in line with his own intentions.

 

He’d spend all of the last couple of days coming up with excuses to spend less time with her. It wasn’t fair to Saori if he kept this up, and his mind was in danger every second he spent in close proximity with Tsukino Usagi. (And he ignored the small, irrational voice in the back of his head that it was not his mind in danger, but his heart. Or that the ship might have already sailed.)

 

It was the right decision. It was the rational decision. However much it made him feel sick to the stomach. It was the responsible thing to do.

 

And so he’d buried himself in work. Volunteered for the shifts that no one wanted at work, and to jump in for those who’d taken sick leave at short notice. He’d gone to the library and stocked up on literature for his dissertation, printed out meta-analysis after meta-analysis, systematic review after systematic review.

 

He'd even invited Saori over, along with Motoki and Reika for a kind of dinner party that was so stuffy, so… It had been the kind of thing he’d surrounded himself with for years, and that suddenly… lacked a little life, even when Usagi was right at the table.

 

But… he needed that. Having Saori around more often, just to remind himself of what he had.

 

And the other times… there was work. And other excuses.

 

If he actually had too much to do in the evenings to spend time with Usagi, then he couldn’t be tempted to sway in his excuses, he couldn’t suddenly forget them the moment her smile hit him.

 

But when he came home from the library today, rather late, Usagi wasn’t even there. And hours passed, and she still wasn’t.

 

He’d opened the laptop anyway, worked through the first stack of meta-analyses, drank so much coffee until his hands started to become jittery. And still she wasn’t home.

 

It was irrational, he knew. Nothing would have happened to her, and yet…

 

It became troublesome to read. His mind went into all the possible scenarios that could have happened, imagined Usagi in any predicament and danger his mind could come up with. And while they started out with reasonable explanations, they spiraled out of control quickly … She’s with friends and forgot the time. She missed the last metro and had to walk home. She got mugged and didn’t have her Suica card anymore, thus _couldn’t_ get home. She had a date, and _wouldn’t_ come home… She was attacked, left in a ditch in some alley, bleeding to death in the shadows.

 

When his mind wouldn’t shut up, wouldn’t stop bringing up the image of her wounded and mutilated and… all the other things his mind started to consider, he hadn’t been able to take it anymore, and called her.

 

The first time she didn’t pick up. The second and third and twelfth time it went straight to voicemail.

 

And that’s why he found himself very uncharacteristically agitated, when she finally arrived. Before she even had a chance to say ‘hello’, or ‘I’m back’, he bit at her, “Where have you been?!”

 

She started a little, froze right in the doorway, eyes wide – and puffy, he realized – and his own eyes widened, and shame flooded him for the pressing, rude tone he’d used. Had she been crying…?

 

He ripped off his glasses.

 

“I was with the girls,” she mumbled to the floor, and his worry flared back up. She was behaving… really off. “We ended up talking through the night.”

 

His heart started pounding. _Had_ something happened? His mind raced again. Tons of questions bubbled on the tip of his tongue. Where were you guys? Why was your phone switched off? _Why were you crying_?

 

Only one made it out.

 

“Are you alright?” he whispered.

 

She lifted her head, startled, brought puffy, red eyes back to him that pierced painfully right into his insides, and willed on the kind of smile he never wanted to see again on her in his life.

 

Forced.

 

“Oh, I’m totally fine,” she said, voice breaking under that awful, awful fake smile, and it made him feel even sicker. “Just…” she trailed off, and he almost exhaled in relief when she let the smile fall.

 

She turned her head sideways, and he held his breath, waiting for an explanation, any explanation about what was going on with her.

 

But instead…

 

“Do you mind if I still shower?” she asked. “I know it’s late.”

 

He swallowed. An almost panicked lump had formed in his throat. “Sure,” he croaked out.

 

She nodded, made her way past him and down towards her room, and he briefly squeezed his eyes shut.

 

This is for the better, this is exactly what you wanted. Less…. Less.

 

It fucking hurt. But it was right.

 

And while he was at it…

 

“Listen,” he called over his shoulder, not looking. “About tomorrow…”

 

He broke off. _Cancel. Just do it. Tell her you won’t have time to go to that restaurant with her, like you promised. Just cancel…_

 

But she interrupted him. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, her voice a little hoarse. “I forgot I had plans tomorrow,” she said, and his stomach flopped.

 

“Raincheck?” she asked, voice tight and still so, so off.

 

“Raincheck,” he whispered.

 

And with a soft click, her door closed behind her…

 

Usagi _never_ closed her door right away.

 

As if bitten, he gathered his laptop, his reading glasses, his stacks of papers and books and folders, and fled through the hall and into his bedroom before she passed him by again on her way to the bathroom.

 

He only deeply exhaled when he, a couple minutes later, heard the faint rush of water on tiles down the hallway.

 

He cursed himself for the way his eyes burnt, for the way moisture pooled in the sides of his eyes.

 

Why did it hurt so much when it was exactly what he had planned to do, too?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go guys! I really hoped you liked it, and please let me know!
> 
> Also, for any if you living in the EU: You might be aware of the copyright law that is being passed in the EU parliament right now, that might ban me and all Europeans from writing fanfiction come January if it gets voted in. So, if you read this, live in the EU, and don’t want this to happen, please consider being vocal about it. I posted a link to a petition on my tumblr, as well as a page where you can find out who your representatives are and how you can contact them!
> 
> Because, you know, I’d love to give you guys more fanfiction in the future…
> 
> But, as of now, I’d like to know how you liked this chapter! Next up: Some awkward, awkward cohabitation, and a date!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much guys for the support! And ESPECIALLY thank you to people like my Italian guest reviewer on FF who said they'd be vocal with me in this fight against article 13 of the new proposed EU copyright law! I'll keep adding the link to my chapter posts on tumblr, so if you live in the EU, and haven't heard of it or seen it yet: Please consider contacting your representatives and signing petitions against Article 13 of the copyright reform, because if passed unaltered in January, it will mean the end of fanfiction (and memes, and parody, and more!) for Europeans like me (and possibly non-Europeans, too, if upload filters are installed without differentiating where the users come from, which, honestly, this technology really can't do, yet!)!
> 
> Anyway, on with the show, and let me know what you think!

It was exactly what he himself had set out to do, and yet… coming from her… he couldn't remember anything in the past hurting quite as much as this.

More often than not, he found the apartment deserted during the past two weeks. And while Usagi had usually been one to lounge around at home in her pajamas, read manga, be _here_ and do silly, girly things or just, play that stupid annoying game with the constant alarm noise that drove him nuts where she prepared pancakes and served them out to hideous little cartoony customers, she was mostly gone these days, and more often than not, didn't even tell him in advance that she would be.

She claimed it was just a busy time. Lots of vlog opportunities, and Rei needed her at the shrine to help out.

One day, he came back from a night shift, and she wasn't home. And didn't come back later, and she stayed away for the night, and didn't return before he had to leave for his morning shift the next day.

He'd died a thousand deaths in worry. All the while telling himself it was because Saori was a police detective that he'd never worried that deeply about _her_. That it was only natural.

And then, suddenly, it normalized. She was home again, at least a little. Way more distant, always in her room, and when it was time for dinner, she usually had plans, going out with one of the girls and vlogging about it, but… at least she was there. At least a little.

And while he had so prepared to keep his distance, to _avoid_ _her_ , he found himself not only soaking these moments up, he found himself searching them out.

He switched shifts, so that he might be home when he knew she would be. He cancelled plans he'd had with Motoki weeks in advance, because he knew she would be filming a video at home, and he could sit and watch her do it from afar.

One night, he even rescheduled with Saori, and hated himself for it.

He was doing the absolute opposite of what he'd set out to do.

And yet, suddenly it didn't feel wrong at all. It felt like … if he didn't do it, he would lose her.

Not even as… someone to replace Saori. That wasn't it. He didn't _want_ Usagi to replace Saori. But if this kept going, he might lose Usagi as a friend. As… this exhilarating presence in his life that made him happy.

He couldn't risk that. He wouldn't.

At least that's what he told himself, when he found himself across the street from the heavy gates nearest to both the library and the medical faculty of Tokyo University's Hongo campus on a Wednesday just after noon, leaning against his motorcycle.

Of course, it was creepy. It was _so_ creepy. And it was even creepier that he waited until Ami slipped between the tall wooden gates to finally make his presence known.

"Usa!" he called, just when she turned to leave, and he saw her brow furrow as she looked around her but not across the street.

He called her again, and finally, finally, their eyes met.

Hers looked so startled, so wide…

She crossed the street, and nearly got run over by a bicyclist because she didn't look, and he called out, his heart rate spiking as he cringed, but she managed to jump back just in time and then crossed the street safely after all.

He exhaled deeply in relief.

And how come his heart beat so strangely when she approached, and ached so hard at the wary look in her eyes…?

His throat suddenly ran dry, and the, 'Hi,' he croaked out felt like it cut across his tongue.

She clung to the strap of her camera bag with both hands tightly clawed into it just beneath her shoulder.

"Where are you—" she started, frowning at his bike, and his eyes widened.

He couldn't exactly tell her he'd come home early, found her missing, and decided to try his luck and find her here…

"I was in the neighborhood," he said a little too quickly. He was surprised at how smooth it sounded, how steady his voice, how nonchalant the sentiment.

"Ah…" she said, and her hands snug a little more tightly around the strap of her bag.

He swallowed. "You, um…" he swallowed once more. "You heading home…?" he said, letting the sentence linger too long.

She blinked, twice, and her teeth brushed across her lower lip ever so briefly. "Um, yes…" she said with a frown.

He swallowed again – his throat felt thick and blocked and awkward – and instead of saying it, of offering her a ride like a normal fucking person, all he could do was hold out the spare helmet towards her. The one he'd already held in his grasp, for her to take, ever since he'd camped out here fifteen minutes ago and waited for her to finally turn up and take it.

She looked at it almost as if she didn't recognize it. As if it was some foreign, weird concept, this spare helmet, or perhaps something deeply dangerous, or maybe both. And for a second he was terrified she was going to decline – that she was going to remember, again, some sudden appointment out of the blue. Something to say no for, again, something to go for.

He was ready to justify any detour. If she said she needed to be in Yokohama, in Karuizawa, in Kyoto, he'd be ready to argue his way into driving her there. But finally, with small hands more tentative he'd ever seen them grasp anything, she accepted the helmet.

He cleared his too dry throat.

"Hop on," he whispered.

She nodded, and somehow, the way her little hands clawed into his shirt like so, all hands and arms around him – he'd have loved nothing more than to glue them there.

To make her stop going.

* * *

Usagi hummed in appreciation and carefully placed the last ornate box of wagashi carefully on top of her filming equipment, and zipped the bag closed, before shouldering it.

Rei threw her a last, amused eyeroll, and of course, Usagi knew what it was supposed to say, _'You just spent your morning eating yourself through four wagashi shops, why do you need to buy even more to go?'_ – but of course it was a rhetorical question, and so Rei didn't actually voice it, just communicated it with snorts and eyerolls.

She'd spent all evening on the phone, pestering Rei to come with her, then showed up at the shrine this morning, all the way arguing how she absolutely _needed_ Rei in a video about the _most_ _traditional_ of all Japanese sweets, because, _c'mon_.

In the end, Rei had finally groaned really hard, changed out of her priestess robes and let her two young mikos tend to the shrine, and relented to be herded through various spots in Tokyo, and joined Usagi in eating herself through the art that was wagashi – everything from traditional wanama made from local sticky rice flour and shaped and molded into flowers, to monaka filled with chestnut paste with the wafers shaped into lucky cats, lush and moist dorayaki brimming with red bean paste and the shape of a little bunny branded into the soft pancake, to fruity daifuka filled with physalis with the mochi so sweet it balanced the tangy taste of the fruit perfectly.

The shops she'd chosen were all tiny, family run shops that had been around forever and looked like what Usagi imagined ancient Edo period shops to look like. One shop's name, in Ueno, had literally been Usagiya – Usagi shop – and the small little oba-chan that ran it had even agreed to not only be interviewed, but filmed as she made a batch of the pretty confectionary in the back of her small shop. To Usagi, this morning had felt almost perfect, as they sat in each store and she trained her camera onto the beautiful artform that was the wagashi, arranged on tiny, beautiful ceramic platters and served with traditional teas which overall seemed like Rei was _made_ to be filmed pouring and drinking them.

All in all, she felt it was one of the _bestestest_ vlogs she'd filmed in a while, even better than last week's cat shaped donuts in Koenji, and besides, sugar was the best thing to keep other, more complicated things from her mind.

Of course, with that thought, her mind was right back in the wound, and her shoulders slumped dramatically.

Rei shot her a pitying smile, reading her like an open book, and Usagi let out a long sigh.

"How's the apartment search going, then?" she asked.

Of course, she'd looked… and while most apartments she had found were absolutely unaffordable to her, the ones she could at least _hypothetically_ pay for (if she stopped spending money on like, toilet paper and transportation and _food_ ) were like _really_ far out of the city … or absolutely falling apart. Or were tiny cubicles. And she kept looking, but…

None of it felt right.

Of course, she knew that technically she could still ask Makoto after all. Or go back to her parents…

Usagi sighed, then shrugged.

Of course, none of these things were technically what kept her back effectually. She knew if she absolutely HAD to leave RIGHT NOW, she would have a place to say, even if not her own or paid for by herself or in reasonable shape. There's been that shoebox of a place about three quarters of an hour train ride away from Shibuya that she _might_ be able to afford if she managed to _just_ …

She sighed again.

"I do know I need to leave… Like, yesterday." Usagi said, and to her credit, Rei didn't start to lecture her, and instead just nodded in agreement.

"I mean… it's not like I'm not _trying_ , but…" Usagi started, frowning. "And don't get me wrong I would _never_ make a move, _ever_ , and it's a _horrible_ situation I _do_ want out of, but…"

Rei sighed too, shot her that look of pity again, minus the smile, this time.

"I do get it, you know?" Rei said.

And Usagi nodded, thoughtfully. In all actuality, Usagi had assumed _so_ much that Rei would judge her… and yet she didn't. Instead, she seemed to be friggin' livid with Mamoru, however much Usagi insisted he wasn't at fault, that it was her own fault and _only_ her own fault that she developed feelings, and that he was just a guy who was engaged and uninterested in her whatsoever. And then Rei's lips would stretch into a thin line and she'd glare but hold her tongue, and mumble weird and vague things under her breath like 'you go on believing that'.

"You love him," Rei said, shrugging. "It's hard to let go of someone you love, no matter the reason," she said, and her eyes turned sad.

Usagi swallowed, remembering too intensely the time when Grandpa Hino passed, years ago, and how deeply Rei had grieved. Still did, years later.

She grabbed Rei's hand, on instinct, and this time Rei smiled back at her, squeezing it, before letting it go again, then cleared her throat and brushed silky, black hair back over her shoulder.

Rei's tone was different, then, when she talked again. Rei was so much better than her at pushing painful thoughts away.

"How did he meet her?" she asked.

Usagi sighed. "They went to high school together."

Rei gave a little curt nod and lay her forehead in wrinkles. "And how did they end up together? Right away?"

Usagi scrunched up her nose. "Honestly, I'm not _exactly_ sure."

Rei through her a look.

"I mean…" Usagi started, frowning. "I only asked him about this that _one_ time, and he was really taciturn and tight-lipped about it, and wouldn't give me much, and so I don't _know_ if it wasn't more romantic, or if he's just rubbish at telling stories. I mean, they've been together for 10 _years_ , so obviously they must love each other no matter how it began?"

"Right…" Rei said "…so? What did he say?"

"He said, and I quote. 'We both used to hang out at the library a lot.'" Usagi made air quotes, turning her face towards Rei just briefly as they stopped at a red light.

Rei blinked, taken aback. "Aaand?" she urged, waving her hand.

Usagi shrugged. "That was it. That's all he gave me!"

Her blinking turned into a deep frown. "What? Really?"

Usagi sighed, "As I said – I've no idea if he's just weird about telling it. He _is_ a pretty private person..." she trailed off, and fell back into her thoughts.

Rei let it drop, instead, she turned that concerned, tight-lipped gaze back towards Usagi. "How are you doing?" she asked.

Usagi's shoulders dropped.

"It's extremely hard," she mumbled, confessing.

Rei nodded, but said nothing.

"Even just..." Usagi starting, exhaling with a huff "…yeah totally apart from the jealousy, that possessiveness ... which I _know_ is totally irrational cause he's not mine and never was, I just..." she sighed once more, looked at Rei's cute little autumn boots and how they clicked against the pavement.

They were walking quite slowly.

She frowned at the ground. "Avoiding him is so hard because whatever I do now feels like... what would Mamo-chan think about this? How would Mamo-chan react to this? And I imagine his douchy snorts that used to annoy me _so_ much and now it hurts so much that I can't _have_ them, and…" she trailed off with a sigh. "And every moment is a little sadder that he's not there because I imagine what it would be like if I could bring him? Not even like... as a boyfriend. Just... as him…" she said, trailing off.

She lifted her head, looked into the distance with a sad smile and a shrug. "I miss him. I miss him so much it hurts."

"Oh, Usagi-chan…"

Usagi gave a dry little laugh. "It's pathetic, isn't it? I miss him and he's right there in my apartment."

Rei shook her head.

"And even despite this…" Usagi continued. "I thought it would be way easier to … not only to _cope_ with avoiding him but… y'know, manage to _do_ it?"

Rei threw her a confused look. "What do you mean?"

"You know, I'm the one with the ideas and making people do stuff…"

Rei chuckled. "What," she said with a laugh, "you mean like _ABDUCTING ME TO COME HERE_?"

Usagi giggled. "EXACTLY!" she said, eyes finding Rei's amused ones, and then shrugged. "And that was the same with Mamoru, or so I thought? Anyway, so, doing less stuff with him, as not to be… you know? I thought, easy, just bite your lip and make you guys do the stuff with me that I really wanna do with him, instead."

"Gee, thanks." Rei rolled her eyes.

Usagi shrugged, not _reaaally_ that apologetic, but she tried. "Anyway," she started back up. "I'M DOING THAT, and what happens?"

"What happens?" Rei asked dutifully.

"Well it worked really well LAST week, like you know, when I volunteered to go on that 2-day-trip with the kids at my volunteer's job, and stuff? But suddenly, he's home randomly at times he's not supposed to _be_ home, and like, suggesting all these things. _Mr. Gyudon Saturdays_ suggested a new restaurant he passed the other day last _Saturday_!" she said.

"Said it had a crazy long line so maybe I wanted to try it out with him since it seemed popular. HE AVOIDS CROWDS, usually, Rei! He HATES restaurants where you have to queue and then sit crammed between people while others outside wait for you to be done. It was _so hard_ to say no, Rei."

Rei crossed her arms, glowering alarmingly.

"And… last Tuesday, during his free day? I was at Mako-chan's café, eating breakfast with her, and like, it was totally the time he would have been doing his ironing thing and gone for a jog and you know, his boring routine before his nightshift, and then… he showed up!"

"At the Pastry Garden?" Rei asked, surprised.

"Yes! Said he was in the neighborhood. Had a coffee!" Usagi said, arms in the air.

"…what?" Rei's tone turned lower.

"And then he texted me the other day, said he found this shop that makes _choux cream puffs_ in the shape of little _Totoros_ ," Usagi said, incredulously. "He's like, only texted me once before, and that was to get toilet paper on the way home! That was _so_ _hard_ , to turn down, Rei. _So_ _hard_."

Usagi trailed off, noticing how Rei's look had turned… almost burning, and she shot her a questioning look.

"Nothing," Rei spit, fuming, furious, and Usagi blinked, confused.

* * *

Why was it so fucking hard to fucking say no?

She managed to. At least mostly. And seriously, it was a miracle.

She's started considering a tattoo with Saori's face on it like, on her hand, or better yet, his forehead. Because seriously, it was all too easy to forget sometimes _why_ the fuck she should stay far, far away.

Well, at least, the inside of her room far away. Door closed.

And why the hell was everything he did now so infuriatingly adorable?

Labeling the spice rack? Shitload of nerdy, but also _adorable_. Ironing her socks when they lost their way into his washing and placing them neatly on her bed, folded in the middle and pressed in the way people sold them in shops? Absolutely mental, but also _adorable_. Following her twitter tag and sending her screenshots when she was mentioned? She didn't even know he _had_ a Twitter account beforehand. _Adorable_. Constant offerings to drive her places, pick her up, drop her off? _Annoying,_ but also _adorable_.

Usagi sighed, and hit her head against the tiles, letting the water of the shower cascade around her.

Sure, he still was an infuriating neat freak who rolled his eyes a very damn huge amount at her, who didn't even let her have time to finish what she was doing before he'd either start asking if she would do it anytime this year, or start doing it himself, and that was still driving her nuts as much as anything, but then again he sometimes did it wearing those frigging glasses that she swore must have been forged in the hot lava of Mount Sexbeast just to taunt her, or would involve him reaching up to place shit in cupboards and expose – for just those small seconds – the baby smooth triangle-sized dimpled patches of skin on both sides of his hips where the V of his shape slowly came together, and which had made her weep in sexual frustration before and would again.

She'd been declining it all. Dinners on the balcony. Dinners together in the first place – she always filled the time slots up with vlogs or meeting the girls or both. But that had not lead to him not cooking for her – and _c'mon_ , that was _unfair,_ how was she supposed to _resist_ that – it had lead into him starting to leave packed lunches for her with written notes, claiming cooking for one sometimes was too tedious, and here were some leftovers for her to take with her.

He did them with tiny lidded sauce jugs inside, for god's sake, and cut the sausages into small octopuses this one time just like Makoto used to do and just like the fucking adorable gem of a person that he was, and she'd started to cry into her pompompurin lunch box when she saw it.

This was torture. It was turning her mind into something so full of cursing even Minako would start to get offended. They were right. She needed to _go_.

And then there were these moments. Like that day it was pouring rain outside and she had to work from home and she watched him spend half an hour scooting closer to Luna little by little until Luna finally let him pet her, and he looked as if he's just won the lottery. Or that time he'd come home after a crazy long shift looking like a zombie, and yet didn't even mention it when Motoki showed up – he just listened to Motoki carefully, as if it had been any other day, listening to his troubles. Or how he, little by little, had started buying her favorite products for her, and she'd find her brand of kiddy-cocoa in the pantry just as she emptied the last bits of the old carton.

Or that night, a couple nights ago, just after she'd arrived home from her wagashi tour with Rei, when he'd borne witness to the terror she felt at thunderstorms for the first time since they lived together. And he sat down next to her where she huddled in the corner next to her bed swathed in her moon and bunnies comforter, screeching panicked whenever thunder struck, and he coaxed her out to sit with her in front of the closed balcony door and the rain that softly beat against it, to take pictures of the striking night sky as lightning flashed across it.

"It's not so scary if you see the beauty in it," he'd said in that quiet, low hum of a voice, smiling that way too kind smile, and she'd marveled at the amazing, colorful photo she'd managed to capture, the lighting spindling out like the branches of a tree above the illuminated Tokyo Tower. And for just a few moments, she'd forgotten to be terrified when the thunder rumbled in the rhythm of the soft piano music Mamoru had put on to distract her from the sound of nature.

And every time he'd do things like that, she felt simultaneously like bursting and like crying and like needing to leave or she'd shout it all out, but she couldn't, she _couldn't_ , and it usually either ended with her bravely asking after Saori, or with crying into her pillow, trying to muffle the sounds, or both.

She was well aware that this was not just a crush. Somewhere along the line she'd started to see the way his lips pressed together, when he faked a smile and it hurt in her gut, or see the way his eyes squinted a bit more when he was too tired and it made her stomach explode in concern, and every fibre in her wanted him to just be happy and content and… the thought that it was not her place to help with that caused that painful lump back into her throat and her chest to ache.

Just like her to finally find someone she could never ever replace, but that she could never ever have.

It hurt. Shitfuckingdamn did it hurt.

She turned the water off, wrung out her hair, and wrapped her fluffy korilakkuma towel around herself, and used another to wrap a towel turban around her hair.

She'd looked at two apartments this week. One had been in the realms of affordability she _might_ be able to stem if she had like, 500 more followers, and if those didn't click away the ads.

She started, when she noticed she'd padded into his room.

It was empty of course. He wasn't home. It was Thursday.

She sighed into his shirt, as she held it to his face.

Yes, of course she was a total creep.

She sighed again, brought it with her into the kitchen and hunted for food, and of course she found her favorite kids cereal although she hadn't bought it, and sighed again, pouring it into her bowl while Luna curled herself against her legs and then hopped onto the counter.

It was one of his long days at work, that would end up with him briefly appearing and then disappearing for his date with Saori, and it gave Usagi the freedom to curl up freely and to mope to her heart's content.

She glanced back at his shirt, where she'd discarded it, frowned at it.

If she was gonna mope, she could do it fully. He wasn't home anyway. He'll never know.

With a little tug at the knot of her towel, she piled it onto one of the kitchen stools, and wriggled her towel turban head into his shirt.

It fell to her knees. And it smelled like him.

She lifted the collar up to her nose and inhaled deeply.

Yes, she was a total creep. But he'll never know.

Luna gave her the most judgemental look, and Usagi just shrugged at her, before carrying her bowl of cereal into the living room and switching the TV on.

Nothing like moping in a too large button down of the man she couldn't have, while munching on food that was bad for her to silly midday game shows.

Currently, some guys were sitting in a classroom trying not to laugh, while some comedian read to them in English.

Tipping the bowl towards her face, she drank the last of the remaining milk, now cocoa-y from the cereal, placed the bowl on his coffee table, and freed her hair from the towel.

It was still damp, of course, but no longer wet. Still, it caused some wet marks on the shirt, and she frowned of it.

And then the door opened, and then closed with a click, and Usagi froze.

No, no, no, no. It's his long day. _And_ it's date night! He's not supposed to be here!

It must have looked extremely silly, the way she turned in slow motion, a tell-tale 'caught in the act' look burned into her.

He stood rigid, too. Frozen just as she. His eyes were a little wide, and he blinked slowly.

She bit her lip, pulled up her shoulders and scrunched up her nose in apology.

"Is that my shirt?" he asked, finally.

She bit her lip a little harder. Well, _she_ knew it was literally _all_ she was wearing. But that didn't mean _he_ needed to realize this… She blushed bright red anyway, and locked her knees together underneath her.

"No," she mumbled, all blush, and kneaded her fingers into the button border near her legs.

He swallowed visibly, slowly, and his adam's apple bopped in a way that looked almost uncomfortable.

His voice sounded a little off.

"Of course, that's my shirt…" he said.

Usagi pressed her lips together. By now her face must have been burning. "It was lying around, it looked very good to sleep in."

Mamoru shook his head. "It wasn't lying around."

Usagi flinched, then shrugged. "Right, so it was lying around in your drawer. But all my PJs are in the laundry, and I can't run around naked, now can I?"

He swallowed again. Had the grace not to comment how it was the middle of the day, and nowhere near bedtime. But she did nap most days, so…

He turned on the spot, mid-conversation, and disappeared into the bathroom, even when Usagi called after him to apologize.

A while later, after she'd calmed herself down from the embarrassment, and she'd long changed and dressed, she noticed with a frown that the shower was still running.

Yeah, he did tend to shower long sometimes… But _this_ long?

L

"You stole a shirt from his HAMPER AND WORE IT?"

Usagi blushed. "It was his drawer. And it smelled like him…"

"EW! Usagi, EW!" Minako pointed at her with her fork, small bits of precious browned butter almond cake filled with cloudberry buttercream and lingonberry jam falling off it and to their demise.

The Pastry Garden was almost empty this time of day, but some of the few patrons threw them curious looks, and Usagi shrunk a little in her seat.

Makoto, a flinch on her face as she returned from the counter and patting her apron before she sat, shot Usagi a sympathetic smile. "Well, it's a _little_ romantic, isn't it?" Makoto said uncertainly, and in a hushed tone.

"No!" Minako said, flinging her ornate little fork. "This guy is _engaged to be married_! It's ew! You need to move out of there already," she said, and Usagi bit into her own slice with a pout.

She blinked. Damn, that was Makoto's best cake yet.

"I've beem lookim for plafef!" she said, mouth full.

"Seriously. You need to do something Usagi. The guy is engaged. You can't go pining after him like this!" Minako said, and Usagi's shoulders hunched.

Usagi swallowed a creamy, heavenly bite. "I knoooooow," she said, burying her fork back into the cake. A little miffed that Minako turned out to be the harshest in this matter. But it seemed, after weeks and weeks of this, her patience had obviously run out.

Makoto hopped up, when one of the customers called for her, and she rushed away.

"That's it," Minako said, grabbed her phone, and started typing. "I'm getting you a date."

Usagi blinked, fork stilling between her lips. "Whot?" she mumbled around it.

It took Minako half an hour to set up a date for Usagi for the following evening. And only half an hour more to convince Usagi that this was exactly what she needed right now.

* * *

When Mamoru came home that night, he braced himself a little before opening the door, and felt his heart drum a beat as he pushed it open.

_Don't be in my shirt, again. Don't be in my shirt. Don't be in my shirt. Please, be in my shirt._

He blinked, scowled at his mind, tried his best to get the image of her in it out of his mind, frustrated at himself. He hadn't managed to do that for almost 24 hours. Why should he now?

He found Usagi running from her room to the bathroom and back, and his breath came short when he saw what she was wearing _this_ time.

She pressed her face almost completely against the mirror as she fumbled with the tiny, pearly studs in her ears and he clenched his fist in order not to reach out and help her.

She flicked her eyes to him, mumbling a welcome back, her smile pressed and tight.

His stomach rolled.

Her dress was short and black and not exactly tight but curving around her in a way that accentuated every angle, even when the neckline was high and modest.

His breath caught when she turned her back to him, and he saw that her dress was backless, the fabric framing her shoulders and fluttering softly to the sides of her, closing only at the small of her back, and smooth creamy skin met his gaze, and that she wasn't wearing a bra.

He exhaled slowly. "You … you look pretty."

Her eyes flicked up and over to him, and she straightened up, black fabric flowing across her thighs. "Um, thank you…"

He swallowed, his throat dry and uncomfortable, and he didn't want to hear the answer to what she was planning to do in an outfit like this, but he asked anyway.

Anything special planned tonight?

Her cheeks flushed this too adorable shade of pink and yet his gut curled painfully when she spoke.

"Um… I have a date."

"…Right." His voice was breathless.

He couldn't place the coiling rumbles in his insides, the way the hair stood up on the back of his neck, the way everything in him became agitated, but this time, when she skipped between the bathroom and her room, running a brush through golden hair, as she walked and got a small tube of mascara from her purse, he followed her.

She was wearing see-through black tights, and her black skirt suddenly seemed so short, her legs so long and attractive and…

"So, um… where do you know this guy from?" he asked. Too urgent, too pressed.

"Um, Minako set me up…"

His heart pounded uncomfortably against his ribcage.

"You don't know him?" he said. Too quickly, too raised.

She blinked. "I know of him."

His look must have turned spectacularly sour because Usagi blinked again, differently this time, and started defending herself.

"I trust Minako…" she said with a frown.

"Where does Minako know him from?" he said, crossing his arms as he walked after her back to her room.

"From work, someway, I think…"

"So, he's a male model?" he asked, eyebrows raised. He did notice the way his voice rose a little, became accusing, but he couldn't control it. Something trembled through every cell in his skin. "Never trust a male model!" he growled.

But this time, Usagi raised both her eyebrows in amusement, and he remembered, of course, the conversation about those stupid photos he'd taken in his first years of university.

She walked back in front of her own, small mirror on her desk, and he stood stupidly in this room he hadn't set foot in in days, maybe weeks, as she slipped into her chair and lifted a brush to her face.

"That's different," he glowered, crossed his arms.

He didn't like the way the dark eyeshadow she dabbed to her lids and the corner of her eye made her eyes look even bigger than they already were.

It was this moment that his doorbell rang, and Usagi, brush raised, looked at him with wide eyes. "He's too early!" she said.

"Never trust a man who's too early," he interrupted, but she interrupted him right back.

"I'm not ready. Can you answer the door?" she asked, and she bit her lip just briefly in this sheepish look of hers and his stomach flops again because her lips looked too kissable and what if…

"Please?" she asked, again, eyes now blinking, surely at his strange behavior.

He exhaled sharp and hard, and he knew his eyebrows were probably resting just above his eyes in his glare, and he turned abruptly and stalked to the door.

"Who is this?" Mamoru barked into the intercom.

A rather deep but obnoxiously friendly, if unsure voice answered. "Um, I'm here to pick up Tsukino Usagi? Did I—"

Mamoru pressed the buzzer, causing the connection to break mid-sentence.

He heard Usagi move around in her room, and every soft thud on the floor vibrated through him.

He started pacing the floor in front of the genkan.

It took forever for the knock to sound against his door, and it was quiet and tentative, and what, couldn't the guy even knock?

He pulled the door open with a glare. He didn't greet the man.

"Um, hello, I'm here to pick up Usagi?"

Mamoru crossed his arms, blocking the entrance. The man shrunk back a little.

"She's not ready yet," Mamoru said, clipped and sharp.

The man recoiled just barely. "Oh… well—"

Mamoru narrowed his eyes. "How old are you?" he pressed out.

This time the guy blinked, surprised, a little put off, it seemed. "Um, I'm 25, sir."

Mamoru whistled. More at the 'sir', than the answer.

"You look older than that," Mamoru snapped, and the guy blinked again, cocking his head and opening and closing his mouth, his gaze flicking down the hall.

He didn't actually. He looked younger than 25, in fact. And he wore a knit cardigan over a black button down and tie, and would have looked totally innocent if not for the haircut, sleek and modern and like those douches with their soy mocha lattes in the coffee shops by Keio with their tote bags and their Kerouac editions that had unbroken spines.

"Um, maybe…" the guy started, bringing a hand into his oh-so-fancy hipster hair.

"So, you're a male model?" Mamoru interrupted.

The guy started frowning, pressed his lips together, forehead wrinkling. "Um, actually…"

Mamoru didn't let him speak this time, either.

"I know your kind, and if I hear from Usagi that…"

The man's frown deepened. "Um, _my_ _kind_?"

"...you treated her like..."

The guy swallowed, head cocked to the side, brow creased… "Um, sir…"

"What?!" Mamoru snapped.

He blinked, but answered. "I work in an animal shelter… sir…?"

Mamoru started, surprised. Then his eyebrows lowered again. "How do you know Minako?"

The guy wet his lips. Mamoru noticed the guy's voice had started shaking just a little. "My sister is a hand model…? They worked together on this job and…"

Mamoru frowned. Right. No model, then. Ok. He shook his head, impatient, interrupted him. "So, you like to surround yourself with wild animals? Do you seek danger?"

This time the guy's surprised face turned almost shocked, so taken aback was he. "Um, we mostly take care of stray kittens, sir…"

The guy cocked his head to the side, looked at him very confused, "Excuse me, but… _who_ are yo—"

Mamoru laced his arms together more tightly, interrupted the guy again, unimpressed.

"Any dangerous hobbies? Do you do drugs? Do you gamble? Are you in a band?"

The guy had frowned all through his questions, blinking surprised, going, "No. No. No," and "Yes, I'm in a band…"

"Ha!" Mamoru said, holding his index finger out stupidly. "Usagi is not a groupie, don't you—"

"Um, it's a Big Band. I play the trombone," he said in an entirely unsure voice.

Mamoru lowered his finger and his eyebrows.

"Um, excuse me, sir, but you were…?"

" _Dr_. Chiba," Mamoru said, crossing his arms, and straightening his back.

It was the moment that Usagi came flitting into the hallway, and her dress flowed around her legs and those few strands curled around her face as her hair flowed around her like spun gold, and she looked too good, too radiant, too…

"Hi," she breathed, beaming a too bright smile at the douche, curling soft hands around a small purse. She ignored Mamoru completely. "Haruto, yes?"

"You can call me Haru," he nodded with a smile, completely ignoring Mamoru as well, now.

Usagi did look stunning.

And her smile turned even wider in answer.

"Shall we go then, Haru-chan?" she said, and bopped her head to the side with that dimple in her smile that was directed at the douche and not him.

Mamoru swallowed, when the guy beamed back at her and nodded almost relieved, and Usagi slipped her feet into these dainty high heels, and she bent to fasten the clasp and it made her legs look even longer and his throat began to hurt and—

"Be back before midnight," he growled out, and turned on his heel, not looking back.

He could hear them speak, before he slammed the door to his room.

"So, who was that…?"

"Um, that's my roommate…"

Usagi didn't come home before midnight. He knew, because he stayed up, staring at the clock, wine glass in his hand.

The bottle was empty when he finally went to bed.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, thank you, as always, to my wonderful beta Uglygreenjacket. You are the best. And, thank you to my wonderful Irritablevowel, for pointing out to me, when I came running to her for OC naming advice, that Haruto, next to lovely meanings like 'tender sound', 'best warmth' and overall spring associated things, also is the katakana spelling of 'heart". ; ) So,there you go, guys, lol.
> 
> PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF THIS! :D (And yes, lol, I know. Mamoru is being EXTREMELY FRUSTRATING! xD)


	11. Chapter 11

" _Oh_ _my_ _god_ , Mako-chan!"

Usagi basically jumped the aluminum counter of Mako-chan's shiny professional kitchen, attacking the stacked little tray of prepared macarons.

Makoto smiled. "These are the ones I made last night. You know, since they have to sit for 24 hours, I thought I'd prepare a batch you can film, and then we make a different batch from scratch now?"

Usagi couldn't speak. She carefully lifted one macaron from the pretty etagere that Makoto had arranged them on.

Mako-chan's macarons were ALWAYS pretty. She did them in different designs, sometimes with cute faces on them, or as popular characters, or just in pastel colors with sprinkles on them, and there were ones like that on the etagere as well, and yes, obviously she could see the korilakkuma ones on there that Mako-chan obviously only did for her, but _this_ one?

She held the macaron up as if it were the single most precious thing in the world, all dark purple food dye, crescent shaped bald spot and whiskers.

"You made me Luna macarons?" she whispered at the macaron, almost near tears.

Makoto shrugged with a cute, little giggle. "Yeah, I did. And I'll make more for your camera."

She hugged the macaron to her chest. For the first time in her life, something was too cute to eat. At least, y'know, right away.

Makoto laughed. "I see you're dressed for the occasion!" She smiled.

Usagi straightened up, beamed, and held her cute, little pastel macaron necklace out, the one with the tiny candy art stars and cream inside and fragile gold chain, straight from Harajuku. "I am!" she said, chest puffed out proudly.

And so, Usagi sat up her equipment while Makoto set out the ingredients. And because that's how Usagi worked she already started filming during the preparation, so that Mako-chan could warm up to the camera, which she still didn't like a lot no matter how often she'd already appeared in Usagi's vlogs, and then set to make the shiniest merengue Usagi had ever seen, dyed it in big batches of color, piped them onto the baking tray with the most professional, little Mako-chan flicks of her wrist, and Usagi cooed and ahh-ed and licked the bowls out while they rose in the oven, a little later.

It was gonna be one of the _bestestestest_ vlogs ever, Usagi just knew. She'd started the day out with eating macaron cakes filled with raspberries and cream at fancy Ladurée in Ginza, being allowed to film there for the first time ever and then ate her way through their authentic, prim and elegant Parisian macaron collection they were so famous for. And now, here with Mako-chan, she went over the way smaller, but so adorable macarons that she sold at the Pastry Garden, and had Mako-chan show the world how to make them, all little chocolate dot eyes and pink dot food dye blushes on the cookie shells.

It was later, after the cookie shells came out and Makoto had filled them all with her handy piping bag and Usagi had made all the pretty macro shots she could, that the trays went in the industrial fridge and Usagi was finally allowed to devour the premade macarons from the etagere.

"Sorry, Luna," she whispered, and then moaned, as she bit off the dark purple macaron in the deepest bliss of having had to watch the tray for almost two hours and not allowed to eat them, while Mako held the camera in her face, chuckling.

She'd totally add a shot of Luna's judging face in the side of the frame when she edited this. Totally needed to happen.

They ate almost all of the tray, giggling and talking as they filmed each other eating, before the camera was shut off, and Usagi still ate.

Of course, by the time they were done, it was time for Mako-chan to start preparing for the day – Mondays were the one day of the week that Makoto opened the Pastry Garden late, in lieu of a day of rest like other shops sometimes had, and her two young temps would arrive soon to help with the baking.

Makoto had long since banned Usagi from lending any hand in her kitchen, so instead she lifted herself up on the counter and watched as Makoto prepared the almond croissants and custard cream fillings, while Usagi nibbled on more macarons.

Watching Makoto bake was way better than going home to face Mamoru's totally weird behavior, anyway.

"So, second date tonight?" Makoto asked, as if on cue.

Usagi blushed. "Technically the third."

"Oh?!" Makoto grinned at her sideways.

Usagi wet her lips, feeling the flush color her face, and shrugged. "Well, I was in Shimokitazawa and vlogged about that cute, little Korean milk shaved ice shop? You know, the one where you can top your ice cream with like, heaps of Oreos and cheerios and sauces and nuts and, y'know, the Instagram one?"

Makoto sighed happily with a nod.

"Well, it's near the animal shelter where Haru-chan works, so I decided to visit him, and he was so thrilled, and took the rest of the day off for me, suggested we go visit the nearby pet rabbit café and…" she trailed off, scrunched up her nose. "Yeah, I made an impromptu vlog about it, with him in it, and he was so sweet in it, and showed everyone on camera how to pet the rabbits in a way that they feel really safe, and we ate all those rabbit themed sweets there. It was extremely cute, you should watch it."

Makoto blinked into the batter before she turned her gaze to Usagi. "He showed you how to cuddle rabbits?" Makoto asked with a glint in her eyes and Usagi blushed.

"Not in _that_ way," Usagi mumbled. "But it was extremely…"

Makoto raised her eyebrows in amusement. "Yeah. I bet."

Usagi sighed.

She should be ecstatic. Haru-chan was like the cutest cinnamon roll on the planet, totally her type.

"So…"

Usagi sighed again. The first date had been bloody perfect. He'd taken her out for dinner at not the fanciest of restaurant but those that were extremely fun, and instead of Karaoke like her dates usually ended up at, he'd taken her home. She told Makoto as much.

"Oh?" Makoto said, bright eyed.

Usagi blushed and shook her head. "Not like that. He'd told me he was currently fostering a few kittens that had been abandoned, and asked if I wanted to see them."

"Oh?"

"Not like that!" Usagi waved her hands, laughing despite herself. "But, I spent the night talking with him on his lounging on his carpet, mostly about our favorite anime and movies, while I got crawled all over by _five little kittens_."

Makoto snorted. "Minako really knows how to pick a date for you."

"You bet!" Usagi huffed, and then sighed.

"So…"

She sighed again, then lifted her hands in frustration. "I don't know!" Then she dropped them back in her lap with a huff, shoulders drooping. "I don't know… I should be ecstatic. Over the moon. Totally in love. I know I always am…"

Makoto frowned. "But you aren't?"

She shook her head, sadly. "No…. I haven't even felt an ounce of curiosity what it would be like to kiss the guy. None."

"Oh…"

"I _want_ to want him! I want it _so_ badly! And he's SO cute, Mako-chan!" Usagi exclaimed, hands back in the air, her little Macaron necklace shaking in the process. "What's _wrong_ with me?!"

Makoto shot her a sympathetic look, and a shrug, and handed her the baking spoon in consoling sacrifice, and Usagi licked the batter off with a tiny, frustrated moan.

Of course, she knew what was wrong with her. Mamoru was wrong with her.

Usagi pouted, removing the spoon from her mouth with a pop and waving it around. "He's perfect, Mako-chan! He's an anime-loving, rabbit-cuddling, kitten-providing, funny guy with a shoujo Manga collection larger than _mine_ , Mako-chan. And he's so fun to be with. I should be hearing wedding bells!" she exclaimed. "But I _don't_. I'm having the best of time with this guy and he's totally enjoying it all and I sit there and imagine Mamoru scoffing at the too sweet food that he then ends up loving after all but can't admit it, and his huffy groans when I only attempt to lift a camera in his face, and _miss that instead_."

Makoto just threw her that sympathetic shrug again, and Usagi's shoulders once again slumped, and she handed the now cleaned off spoon back with a pout. Makoto exchanged it for a spatula full of custard cream, and dropped the spoon in the sink behind her, getting out a new, clean spatula from the drawer beside her.

"But you're gonna see him tonight, anyway?"

Usagi frowned around the spatula in her mouth. Brow creasing. Was that wrong to do? But she couldn't help but hope that maybe she _would_ develop feelings any moment now. It would be so much easier, if she maybe just were into Haru-chan after all? Get her mind off Mamoru and what could never be… Maybe she just hadn't tested it enough yet? Maybe Mamoru was just too much on her mind? Haru was a perfect match for her after all! And she really, really, _really_ did enjoy spending time with him. It felt like spending time with another version of herself. All smiles and fun and enjoying the same things she did…

Also… wouldn't it be, like, the most convenient thing ever? If she simply developed feelings for sweet, wonderful Haru (any moment now!), forgot all about Mamoru in the process, and could _maaaybe_ even keep living there, totally without feelings and thus… not needing to go?

She nodded rather sadly, spatula still in her mouth, and extracted it with a pop, and swallowed the rich, thick, eggy vanilla cream. "Third time's a charm?" she said, smacking her lips. "Maybe…"

Makoto nodded and cracked another egg into the large kitchen machine and the third batch of different batter.

"I don't know," Usagi said, the corners of her mouth somewhere with her feet. "Maybe I shouldn't."

Makoto shook her head softly. "I think you should. It's not _always_ love at first sight, you know? And you do like him?"

Usagi nodded, frowning. She knew Haru-chan really seemed to like her…

She sighed deeply, twirled the spatula in her hand.

"Well, what were you planning to do tonight, then?" Mako asked, tone turning brightly. "What can top a date at a rabbit café, and kittens while talking anime?"

Usagi pressed her lips together and blushed. "I asked him to come over to Netflix and chill?"

Makoto blinked, turning to her with surprised eyes. I mean, of course Makoto knew what sort of code that was for…

Usagi shrugged sheepishly, "I thought, I mean… It's Mamoru's night shift tonight, and…it doesn't _have_ to come to that, but maybe, if it clicks there? I mean _maybe_ if he blows my mind away and…"

Makoto nodded her head abruptly, a blush on her cheeks. "Makes sense…" she mumbled.

"Also, you know…" Usagi crinkled her nose and cursed the blush that returned to her cheeks. "I _have_ been very…" she cleared her throat, didn't finish the thought, but Makoto snorted at her with that knowing look in her eyes, needing no further explanation.

Yeah, well, it wasn't a secret she'd been, like, _totally_ horny for weeks. _Months_.

Usagi stemmed her elbows into her knees, and dropped her chin into her hands with a huff.

"Maybe I should just cancel and actually Netflix and chill with you instead, tonight," she grumbled. "We still need to catch you up on Terrace House, anyway."

Makoto blushed, but didn't take her eyes off the kitchen machine. "I can't tonight?" she mumbled.

Usagi blinked, lifted her chin from her hands and cocked her head in question.

Makoto blushed even harder. "I have a date tonight…"

Usagi pretty much erupted. She jumped off the table wide-eyed and started hopping, shrieks muffled by her hands over her mouth.

"It's not _that_ big of a deal," Makoto said into the batter, cheeks pink.

"WHO, WHERE, WHAT!" Usagi exclaimed, fluttering about her. "Why didn't you _say_ anything, when did you—"

Makoto was adorable when she blushed, she did it so prettily. "He runs a flower shop down the street…" she mumbled, and Usagi shriek-hopped again, clapping her hands like a little child.

They were interrupted, much to Usagi's dismay, by the soft knocking of Mako-chan's temps, but soon the two younger girls were all wrapped up into making Makoto blush even harder, too, as Usagi grilled her about every detail as best she could.

* * *

Mamoru picked listlessly at the pickled radishes, pushing them around and around on the little ceramic plate with his chopsticks.

Their restaurant was rather empty this time of day, and the lighting looked wrong. He hadn't realized before that they'd never been here during the day.

He pushed a pickled radish against the fermented cabbage, swishing it around.

"—No, Wakagi, check the case files again. The surveillance report was listed with— Yes, exactly. I'll be back in half an hour, just—Yes."

Saori shot him an apologetic look again, hand raised in front of her mouth as she tried to talk quietly into her phone. He flicked his hand at her, trying to signal her that it was not a problem at all, and she hushed back into the phone.

She looked really professional like this. The smart, tailored, cream-colored blouse that fluttered around her narrow shoulders, the high waisted pleated pant, the thick belt that had her badge attached to it, and, not visible underneath her blazer, her colt.

Mamoru realized with a start it had been ages since he'd seen her like this. In work clothes, during the day. She felt foreign to him like this, almost. Much, much more foreign than the days when he was still taking classes at Keio, and she was still in uniform, and they met like this for lunch a lot, during the day, in one of the small Ramen shops near Keio's Mita campus.

He hadn't realized it had been that long.

No wonder Saori had been so surprised to see him at the precinct earlier. But he'd just been so restless at home, after his shift and … and for once, he hadn't felt like his routine. Something was missing. Something was wrong, and he refused to listen to the nagging voice in the back of his mind that whispered of things he did not allow himself to hear.

Instead, he showed up at the precinct. They'd had a new officer manning the front desk. One he didn't know, who didn't recognize him, and he once again felt guilty for how long it had been.

He sighed. What the hell was wrong with him…

"—Right. Yes. See you later," Saori said, the slight, annoyed strain in her voice only noticeable to him, but surely not to the other person on the phone, since she kept it lidded so well. She hung up, and turned her eyes to the ceiling with a soft sigh.

"Seriously. The man's been working at the precinct so much longer than I have. You'd think he'd get stuff like that done, but…" she broke up with a shake of her head, and planted a smile back on her lips, and kind eyes back to him. "I'm sorry for the interruption. You were saying?"

He shook his head. "It wasn't that important," he said, and pushed the radishes back to the other side of the little plate.

"No, no!" Saori said, her eyes turning a little wide. "Please, go on! So, Usagi-chan had a date?"

Mamoru pressed his lips together. "Yes." He shouldn't have even started this line of conversation in the first place. Had been glad when it got interrupted…

"And?" Saori asked, eyes flicking to her now cooled down bowl of bimimbap and slicing through the egg, then back up to him.

He shook his head, dismissive. "The guy is a total thug."

Saori blinked in surprise, looked up at him, startled. "What do you mean?"

Mamoru flushed. Well, he _was_ a musician! And that hair! "Totally sketchy," he said. "Maybe in a gang," then shook his head. _What_ was _wrong_ with him? He _knew_ the guy wasn't…

But Saori's eyes had shot back to him, worried now. All the 'Oh, no' written in them, and he was again reminded of the fact that Saori was one of the most righteous and solicitous people he knew.

"Oh no!" Saori said, eyes wide and worried for Usagi. "Do you want me to check up on him? What if—"

Mamoru flinched. "Um, maybe not a gang. Just a douche. I'm sure Usa will be fine, I'm just…" he broke off and shook his head with a frustrated sigh.

Saori's eyes had flicked to him at the mention of Usagi.

She frowned into her bowl, blinked a few times, before they flicked back of to his, an emotion in them he couldn't quite place. "…'Usa'?" she said. "Since when do you use nicknames for anyone?"

His chopsticks stilled.

… Didn't he? Had he never…?

His brow scrunched up, deep in thought.

Saori leaned back in her seat, against the cream colored cushioning of the leather bench she was sitting on in their usual booth, the one they'd frequented for the past 4 or so years, ever since this restaurant opened and they'd found it together one night.

She swallowed, frowning at him, crossed her arms and uncrossed them.

"Are you sure you're alright?" she finally said, voice a little off. "You don't act like yourself, Mamoru…"

He exhaled.

… He didn't, did he?

* * *

Mamoru's eyes flicked to the door of the living room, after he heard the front door click and the shuffle in the genkan.

Usagi had been gone all day. It was almost seven now, Usagi had spent the whole day away from home once more...

Usagi froze in the doorway when she spotted him on the couch. Eyes wide and utterly surprised to see him, shocked almost.

He couldn't help the way his gut clenched.

He recognized the pink little paper bag in Usagi's hand. Saori shopped there, too.

He swallowed, looked away. He didn't want to know what Usagi would need new, expensive, French underwear for.

He didn't know why it made his skin crawl and his throat constrict and his gut coil.

Mamoru remained on the couch, stubbornly staring at the opened-up page of his book, even when no words seemed to filter through his mind, and his lips would have trembled if he didn't tense them up on purpose, and replied a tense 'okaeri' to Usagi's 'I'm home'. She slipped into her room behind his back.

It was a while later that Usagi poked her head out of her room again.

"Um… isn't today your night shift?" she said, eyes nodding to the clock, voice small and unsure.

He didn't lift his head from the pages. "I swapped around a lot lately…"

Usagi's mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. "Right…" she said.

He didn't look up from the book he wasn't reading. But he felt her fidget behind the couch.

"Um…" she started "…Haruto will come over tonight."

Mamoru's head whipped around. "To pick you up?" he said, swallowing, eyes probably way too wide.

Usagi shrunk a little. "We're watching anime in my room…"

His breath came short, remembering the pink little bag he'd seen disappear into said room.

He met her gaze. He could feel his heartbeat in his teeth.

"Are you telling me to leave?" he said, voice sounding too hard, and so different from what was happening inside of him.

Usagi blinked. "No!" she said. "I mean…"

He could feel his hands start to tremble, felt the prick in his throat and behind his eyes and he scowled, scowled so hard at it all and swished back around, looked back into his book. "I've got work to do. I'll be here." His tone was harsh, dismissive.

"Right…" Usagi said, and he heard her feet dig around in his green rug, and when he didn't react anymore, and she hadn't spoken in a while, her heard the soft click of her bedroom door, and he exhaled. His elbows dug into his knees, book slipping from his too tight grip into his lap as he pushed his hands into his hair and his palms against his forehead.

It was almost two hours yet only about 20 pages later that the doorbell rang, and his heart beat against his ribcage again.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see that Usagi had changed clothes, when she padded out of her room to answer the door. It was one of the cutest little casual dresses he knew on her, had complimented her about it before.

Mamoru fought the urge to hum to himself to block out the sound, when he heard their faint voices in the hallway, and his jaw was locked and tense when Haruto walked in, all bright eyes and flannel shirt and stupid hair, and greeted him with a "Dr. Chiba," and Mamoru only grumbled a reply.

He held a little bouquet of more pink than red roses. It was a small little bunch and not even that pretty and definitely nothing too fancy, and yet Mamoru's nerve endings flared up and his teeth itched and something crawled down cold along the back of his neck, and even while Usagi rushed in and out of the kitchen for a vase, Mamoru couldn't help but eye the roses, still in Haruto's grip, thinking about the set of old scalpels in his room from his training years.

How hard would it be to make a rose really pointy? Until you could stab someone with it?

Usagi gushed at the flowers, telling Haruto how it was the first time she'd gotten flowers from a man just like that, without it being her birthday or an anniversary or anything, and Mamoru felt it like a stab to his stomach.

Haruto reacted incredulous, saying things like that he couldn't believe men hadn't showered her with flowers, and Mamoru snorted in disbelief into his coffee cup. As if the guy hadn't just bought them at the conbini down the road…

Usagi was already back in the kitchen, filling a vase with water, and Haruto's eyes flicked to Mamoru's briefly.

Mamoru knew his eyes were probably steel, and he held the guy's gaze as if he had something to prove.

Haruto looked away first, obviously uncomfortable, and Mamoru hated the little flair of triumph in his gut at the action. It went away, abruptly, when Haruto moved to follow Usagi into the kitchen, heard the low hum of voices, and then Usagi's light giggle.

Mamoru exhaled slowly.

What the fuck was wrong with him? So, Usagi dated a slick douchebag with kittens and cheap flowers. What was it to him?

Yes, yes, of course. He knew he was attracted to her. Extremely so. But he had long, long, long decided to never act on it. That he would never do this to Saori.

Why did he feel as if this guy was here to steal his world, then?

Wasn't this a good thing? Wasn't this a _safe_ thing? If she had someone, too?

He'd spent the past months, ever since Usagi moved in, reading up on things like novelty effects and Coolidge phenomena, reassuring himself that sometimes it was normal to have eyes and that it would go away. And he waited for it. Any minute now, he waited for the tremors in him to go away, the ones that coiled through him whenever he was the recipient of her smile, or when he saw her lounging in the living room, giggling to her camera so adorably, or when she wrinkled her nose at him when she thought he was being atrocious, or…

It would go away. He knew it would. It was lust.

Then _why_ …

Nothing felt right. Nothing could explain. He'd never felt this type of raging jealousy. Saori got looked at. She had friends who were into her. It had never bothered him. But this? This was burning, awful agony, and he didn't understand.

The lump in his throat hurt, and it throbbed painfully when her door clicked shut and he heard the low rumble of Haruto's voice followed by Usagi's giggle from the inside of her room.

Mamoru launched himself off the couch. His book dropped, forgotten, to the floor.

He found himself in the kitchen, and before he knew it, he held the minimalist bottle of coffee grain whiskey in his hand that Saori's father had given him for his graduation. It was the only hard alcohol in his possession.

He'd uncorked the bottle and poured himself a double before it fully registered what he was doing.

He tipped his head back, and the feeling of the liquid burning down his throat was a welcome one, warm and causing him to flinch and hiss and he emptied the glass and poured himself another.

Then Usagi laughed again.

He placed the bottle back inside the pantry cupboard, carried his glass into his room, and shut the door too loudly.

Maybe the alcohol would allow him to fall asleep really, really fast. Maybe he would stop imagining what was going on in the inside of that room. Maybe he would stop imagining the contents of that small pink paper bag on Usagi. The douche's hands all over her.

* * *

His eyes whipped open at the sound of the softest little knock on his door.

A small headache filtered through his head at the sound, and his eyes whipped to the alarm next to him. It was almost one o'clock in the morning.

Another knock, and Mamoru rubbed his eyes, still disoriented, and when they moved to the door, Usagi had already slipped into the room.

Her back was hunched, her eyes were sheepish, and he noted in relief that was way too deep that she was still fully clothed.

"I could use a favor," she whispered, eyes cringing.

His eyes widened.

_Don't ask for a condom don't ask for a condom don't ask for a condom…_

She kneaded her fist into the hem of her too short skirt. "Like, I _know_ I should be doing this myself, but…"

_Don't ask for a condom don't ask for a condom don't ask for a condom…_

His breath came shaky, his heart sped up.

"I really don't know what's up, and he's super sweet, and considerate, and it's totally not his fault, and I don't, like, actually _want_ to say no, but I also don't… I don't wanna explain, and maybe ruin it all and… it would be so much _easier_ if…" she rambled.

Mamoru blinked, totally confused now, but also deeply, deeply relieved she wasn't asking for a condom.

He frowned. "What…"

She bit her too lush lips too adorably, cocked her head. "Could you maybe make… a scene or something? He thinks I'm in the bathroom. Like, that we're too loud or something? Throw him out? He's scared of you anyway. I want him ou—"

Usagi didn't have to finish the sentence. He was up and out and through the door in just his boxer briefs, barging into Usagi's room, ready to drag the guy out by his testicles.

It was the best feeling in the world.

* * *

Saori had been even more surprised than the day before, or so it looked, when Mamoru picked her up from work the next day.

They'd have an hour together, before he would have to leave for his night shift. He would usually spent it differently.

She regarded him with the kind of gaze she usually used on particularly puzzling cases, after she'd locked her gun and badge away and met him at the front desk, but then shook her head as if clearing it, and fell in step with him on the way out.

She freed her hair from the tight bun it had been in, as they ascended the few flights of stones stairs that led up to the building, and Mamoru felt Saori's eyes measuring him.

"How was Usagi's date?" she asked, carefully.

He froze, turned to her, surprised. "Why would you ask?"

She held his gaze and shook her head again. This time, her frown was replaced with her normal kind smile, and a shrug. "Just wondering. So, how was it?"

They didn't talk about their destination. They automatically turned into the street that would lead them to "their" Korean restaurant.

Mamoru shrugged. He had to bite the insides of his cheeks to keep from smiling, he knew he shouldn't. It was horrible to smile about.

"It went horribly," Mamoru said. "She asked me to kick him out."

Saori's eyes widened, her mouth opened in concern. "Did he do something she—"

Mamoru shook his head, lifted his hands. "Oh no, she's fine! Don't worry!"

Saori's shoulders dropped in relief, and Mamoru's smile fell instantaneously and turned into a frown.

Then Saori pursed her lips. "She doesn't seem to have the best taste in men, does she?" Saori murmured, still that worrying tone, and Mamoru blinked.

"Uh…" Mamoru started. "He just… he didn't fit her, at all. Is all…"

Mamoru scrunched his eyes shut briefly, massaged the bridge of his nose.

He dropped his hand, and felt the familiar warmth of Saori's hand as she slipped hers into his and laced her fingers around his hand.

"What would be Usagi's type, do you think?" Saori asked, looking up at him.

Mamoru swallowed. He suddenly didn't like at all where this conversation was going.

"I don't know…" Mamoru said, his voice a little tight. "She doesn't seem to have good luck with finding the right ones…"

He knew his answers were evasive. He knew the douche had actually been quite alright. He knew that… but…

Saori sighed, but turned her lips up into a smile, and squeezed his hands. "Oh, don't worry about her, we'll just have to find someone for her, then…"

Mamoru's throat instantly closed up. It felt like an alarm that started blaring through his head.

"Usagi is such a sweet and fun person. I doubt we'll have any trouble finding someone for her, don't you think?"

Mamoru's ears rang.

"We could invite someone over for another dinner party? Or maybe, like, a double date? Maybe someone from the station… How about Tenshi? He's such a nice man, and I know he cooks really well, wouldn't Usagi—"

Mamoru swallowed. "I'm sure Usagi can find someone on her own…" he croaked out.

Saori frowned. "Well, clearly, from the man you've been describing these past days, she could use a little nod in the right direction. Someone more responsible, a little more like you."

Mamoru's step fell out of rhythm, when he choked. It turned into a cough.

Saori threw him a peculiar look, kept his gaze, but went on, when he didn't say anything.

They'd fallen out of step.

"I do really feel bad for her," Saori said.

Mamoru kept silent.

"I really think we should try and set her up," Saori said.

Mamoru blanched.

"There must be someone responsible we know who would fit such a charming, wonderful person as Usagi…"

What was happening here, why did this…

It wasn't his place. This was not…

He scrunched his eyes shut. What was he doing. Stop thinking about her as if… you're not allowed to…

He couldn't believe his ears for what he said next. Wanted to take it back directly.

"Sure…" he said.

Saori's eyes lit up. She tugged a little on his hand in that quiet way that was her excitement. "Ok," she said, smiling from ear to ear. "Let's see. Who do we know who is single and would fit Usagi…" she mused.

He hated his brain for what it immediately did. For how he wracked his brain not for people Usagi would like, but for the blandest, most unspontaneous person he could think of. Someone studious, someone cynical, someone Usagi would find absolutely boring…

"Kobayashi," Mamoru said.

Saori stopped. Blinked at him slowly.

She stuttered. "Ko...Kobayashi? _Our_ Kobayashi?" Her eyes were wide, incredulous.

He frowned at her. "Do we know anyone else named Kobayashi?"

She grew quiet, frowned, took a moment. As if the thought of Kobayashi with anyone was a foreign, startling, new concept that shook something in her. Then she exhaled, started walking, and met his gaze.

"Sure…" she said, entirely unsurely.

Why did it suddenly sound so much like his 'sure'?

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, if you guys are interested in reading a 'Mako dates a guy who runs a shop down the street' - story, watch closely what Irritablevowel is doing, because she's gonna give you a story exactly in that fashion, very soon ; ) (A preview is already up on her tumblr if you wanna check that out!)
> 
> And yes, here's to the very real issue of forcing emotions – either trying to force them away, or try to force them into existence! Please let me know what you thought of this chapter!
> 
> Next up: Shit hits fan-ery, and a double date!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter took a week to get my head around, and a day to write, lol. Always-thanks to my beta, Uglyjacket, who didn't flinch at all when I dumped 10k on her in a single day. Soorryyy, love!
> 
> Anyway, about time I mention one of the songs I've been writing, like, all of this fic to, but especially this chapter: Can't Sleep Love by Pentatonix. You know, in case you need a soundtrack to this fic, just put that song on repeat, lol. I know I have.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you have fun with this chapter, and I hope you tell me if you did ;)

"And you just _agreed_?" Minako's incredulous voice admonished her through the speaker.

It was turned on low, of course. Mamoru would be out of the shower any moment, but as of now, she still heard the water rush.

Usagi pursed her lips, leaned close to her mirror and pushed the tiny silver studs – with the array of even tinier, multicolored glass crystals in them making them look like a miniature flower bouquet fresco – carefully into the holes of her ears.

She straightened up and rubbed her hands against the waist of the baby blue A-line fit and flare dress.

It hugged her waist tightly, flaring out at the hips dramatically and fell to her knees, and it twirled prettily and the off the shoulder look emphasized her cleavage in a way that made what little there was of it look alluring and touchable, and the light blue color would look fabulous to the strappy metallic silver pumps that were waiting in the genkan.

She looked good enough to eat, even she knew that.

Even when she was trying to tell herself she'd made the effort for _her_ date within this strange double date from hell…

She picked the phone back up, turned off the speaker, pressed it to her ear, glancing back into the mirror all the while and smoothing out imaginary wrinkles on the dress she'd bought just today with money she really needed to use for more responsible adult things.

"How could I have said no?" Usagi whispered into her phone. "You should have _heard_ Saori on the phone."

"Wait, what?" Minako bit out. "Mamoru didn't even tell you _himself_?"

Usagi blinked. Frowned. But… he didn't even have the time… Saori called before… when they were still…

"Usagi-chan," Minako said, tone serious and caring and authoritative, the tone she used when Usagi was about to do something dumb and Minako seemed to forget she was not her sworn guardian protector or something. "You're about _to go on a date with the_ engaged _man you're in love with_ and _he is not your date_."

"You really don't need to remind me of that, I'm well aware…" Usagi grumbled into the phone.

"Well obviously, you're not!"

Outside, she could hear the rush of the water dwindling to a stop, and she held her breath as she heard the noisy, creaking, slide of the door to the shower room, even through her closed door.

"Usagi, you _just_ had a heart-to-heart with Haruto, explaining to him you weren't in a state to date because you're hung up on someone else, and now you're about to embark on _another_ date with some random dude only days later, with the _very person you're hung-up on THERE WITH YOU_?"

Minako's voice had risen, and it was irrational, she was on the phone, but she was suddenly terrified Mamoru might hear.

" _Well_?" Minako huffed into her phone, when Usagi didn't reply for a moment. Frozen.

She heard Mamoru's feet pad through the apartment. Knowing, _knowing_ he was just in a towel again.

Then she heard the door to his room click shut, and she exhaled loudly.

" _Usagi-chan_?" Minako demanded, in all the 'what do you have to say in your defense' tone.

"I'll just be nice and enjoy a fancy meal and never have to see the guy again?" Usagi said.

She could almost hear Minako's argument before she'd even made it. That the guy who was her actual date was not the one she was concerned about, it was the one she _couldn't_ decide to never see again as easily she was concerned about.

But, to her surprise, Minako didn't say it.

"Fine," Minako huffed. "I bought three pints of ice cream and I'm not going out tonight, and even if I fall asleep I'll keep my phone next to me at all times if you need me, but don't expect me to not say 'I told you so.'"

Usagi fell into a smile, met her own reflection in the mirror. She did have the best of friends.

"Thank you, Mina-P…" she whispered.

Minako hrmphed. "Just take care of yourself, ok? It's all I ask."

Usagi nodded, hummed in agreement to it. "I will, I promise."

She could pretty much hear Minako's doubtful frown, but this, again, Minako didn't voice.

In all honesty, Usagi thought, as she pocketed her phone into the small silver clutch, this was probably going to be painful but needed shock therapy.

If she would see Mamoru and Saori happy and on a date, see them as a couple in a romantic environment like this, it might just be the most potent – and painful – cure she needed. Maybe she could get over him then, if she saw up close what he had, what she was jeopardizing with her stupid feelings.

She sighed. Then she frowned at her hair, saw a wrinkle in one of her buns, and redid them. On a whim, she put a very small but pretty hairpin into the crook of one of her buns.

She nodded to herself, steeled herself for impact.

When she finally emerged and padded out, Mamoru was dressed and sitting in the living room, waiting for her.

She couldn't help but notice the way his eyes widened when he saw her, and he froze a little, and she did an internal fist pump for the dress and then immediately berated her mind for it, telling herself as best she could _this dress_ _was not for him_.

The exhilaration lasted for all but a second. He didn't comment on her dress, and she swallowed down the disappointment.

He shifted away from her, buttoned up his suit blazer quickly, erratically, and cleared his throat, swallowing. His voice was a little breathy, a little hoarse, when he spoke. "Shall we?" he said.

She nodded meekly. Cleared her own throat when he bent in that gorgeous black suit with the matte colored black lapels and the crisp white shirt and skinny black tie, the fabric across his butt stretching as he bent to put on shiny, classy dress shoes.

She fumbled a bit with putting on her own shoes and fastening the thin clasp around her ankle, and she wobbled a little when she got up. They were _high_.

She didn't fall though. Instead she blushed bright red because Mamoru had caught her by her bare arms to steady her in the crammed small space of the genkan, and one of her legs was between both of his since she's steadied herself.

She bit her lip, steeled her gut further, tried not to think of the way his hands felt against her bare skin.

He let go of her as if burned, grabbed her fluffy marshmallow of a cream-colored coat and nearly threw it at her.

"Won't you be cold?" he asked, voice strangled, looking pointedly at her legs.

It was chilly in the hallway already, the bright fluorescent glare of the apartment building making the fancy get-up seem silly and overdressed.

"We'll be in and out of the car, right?" Usagi said, not denying him.

He nodded curtly, the atmosphere so _weird_ , and locked the door behind them.

It was a stupid, utterly unnecessary car ride, because the restaurant was literally around the corner, a three or four minute walk away from their apartment building, but Saori's place wasn't, and so they made a ten minute detour that turned to 20 minutes because of traffic in that ridiculous red car to pick her up.

Usagi had climbed into the backseat automatically, reserving the passenger seat for the woman it belonged to, and sat down right behind the driver's seat.

They were silent on the ride, but she could feel Mamoru's eyes on her in the rearview mirror from time to time.

Mamoru got out when they arrived, and Usagi remained in the car. It was a painful sight, watching Mamoru disappear into the entrance of this classy, obviously expensive building, and not re-appear for a while. An even more painful sight when he finally emerged what felt like hours later, looking still so smashing in that classy suit, Saori smiling warmly at her on his arm as they approached the car, in a stunning emerald colored, velvet dress underneath an open, classy, black trench coat that hugged every inch of her body and brought out the color of her beautiful eyes.

Usagi might look good enough to eat. But Saori looked like sex on legs, a very different kind of good to eat, the one that was done with tongues and heaving breaths and gasps and hushed whispers of devotion. Usagi was suddenly very much reminded of the sounds she'd heard coming from the next room, those few weeks back.

Usagi's throat ran dry, willing the painful imagery out of her head.

"Usagi-chan, you look _adorable_!" Saori gushed at her with bright, sincere eyes, as she leaned back around the passenger seat and reached out to squeeze Usagi's hand that rested on her dimpled knee.

Mamoru went back around the car, got into the driver's seat, and immediately wove them back into the horrid Tokyo rush-hour traffic.

"Not compared to you, I don't," Usagi breathed. She felt Mamoru's frown on her through the rearview mirror again. "You look absolutely stunning, Saori. I wish I could pull that look off."

Saori smiled at her, so warm, so nice. "You know, I wish I could pull off yours? I can give that sentiment right back."

Usagi blinked, surprised, looked back down at her beautiful baby blue dress.

It _was_ cute, wasn't it?

The ride took forever, and Saori started grumbling about how they should just have walked – which she was totally right with, they'd probably have arrived sooner, and so when they finally parked in the parking garage nearest to the restaurant that ended up being about as far away from the restaurant as their apartment building, Mamoru vowed to just leave the car there overnight.

Saori rushed into the restaurant first, hugging a man sitting alone at a table for four in an anthracite suit, apologizing profusely for their delay, before she'd even gotten out of her trench coat.

Kobayashi was one of Saori's friends, so much she'd gathered, and she introduced him to Usagi with warm, affectionate words and a hand on his sleeve.

Both Mamoru and Saori stood weirdly rigid when Kobayashi turned to Usagi with a cheeky smile, light brown and almost auburn hair that fell boyishly into his grinning face, and he decided to greet her with a hug.

Usagi giggled. It did break the ice. He was nice.

* * *

Mamoru liked Kobayashi. Sure, he was definitely more Saori's friend than his, ever since Saori had met him when they were all in their first year of college, and she and Kobayashi became friends right away, but despite the fact that the two of them were much closer, and there were things that just didn't click between him and Mamoru, he still liked Kobayashi actually.

Right now, he hated him, though, and couldn't stop the fierce glare in his direction, as he sat diagonally opposite of him.

The way he kept glancing at Usagi – at her _cleavage_.

Mamoru was boiling. Found himself sarcastically cutting into strings of conversation, earning him weird looks.

He'd picked him out, because Usagi would find him boring. Why didn't she find him boring?

Why were they getting along so well? Had Kobayashi always been so easy on the jokes? Was Kobayashi a funny man?

He didn't even notice that Saori, next to him, was sitting more rigidly than usual as well.

Usagi and Kobayashi, though, they seemed to be having the best of time.

That glow and laughter in Usagi's eyes. It had been gone for weeks, it seemed, and now it was back. Because of fucking _Kobayashi_.

It had first happened when Saori had started discussing the opera they had tickets for after that wine tasting that was scheduled for next month, right around Christmas time.

"Don't you sometimes just wanna strangle them for being so perfect?" Kobayashi had said, leaning over in his seat and mock whispering towards Usagi, while addressing Saori with amused, joking eyes.

Saori had rolled her eyes with that amused bite of her lips that she so often regarded Kobayashi with, but Usagi had _erupted_. Eyes alight and suddenly full of joy.

" _Oh my GOD, YES EXACTLY_!" she had yelped, delightedly.

Kobayashi chuckled, straightened up with that gleam still in his eyes and started speaking in that obnoxiously annoyingly high and snooty voice that was supposed to be his nasal imitation of sophistication, swaying side to side. "Look at us, we go to the _opera,_ and we grind our expensive _Peruvian coffee beans_ with our hipster _coffee_ _grinders_."

Saori only rolled her eyes affectionately, but Usagi puffed and snorted with laughter. " _Oh my god the coffee beans_! Yes!" she cried.

Or much later, when he had Usagi laughing tears into the table cloth already and he leaned over to her, chuckling with amused eyes and a shrug.

"Anyway, I should maybe mention my dating disability," he'd said to her, almost conspiratorially, leaning to her sideways as he kept cutting his filet.

"Oh?" Usagi had giggled, eyebrows raised, obviously not believing a word the fucking douche was saying being fucking charming.

"Yes," he said, with a theatrical sigh that had Usagi back in giggles, "in the face of a beautiful woman, strange things come out my mouth. But, obviously, with you it's not so bad."

Mamoru snorted in utter disbelief when Saori, across from Kobayashi, slapped Kobayashi's hand on the table. "Kobayashi!" she called out, appalled, and Kobayashi blinked, realizing what he'd said.

But Usagi only giggled around her gnocchi some more, raising both eyebrows in good natured banter. "Right. Um, thaaank you?" she laughed at him.

Kobayashi's eyes were suddenly wide, and he lifted his hands, cutlery in them. "Oh my god, no, that doesn't mean you're not a beautiful woman, I meant – I meant, you know, when you see someone so utterly perfect it almost hurts, but like, with you, you're such comfortable company instead…"

"KOBAYASHI!" Saori yelped and Usagi snorted again, laughter bubbling from her perfect lips.

"… I'm not making this better, am I?" Kobayashi said, ducking.

Saori glared at him, but Usagi just giggled a little more, the sound like bells and personified joy. "You know, I'll take that. Who's perfect anyway? I definitely know I'm not. And it IS hard to be around and compare yourself to!"

Mamoru frowned at her. Hard. How could she— _What_?!

Kobayashi looked around himself, wiggling his finger at Usagi, but his gaze switching back and forth between Mamoru and Saori almost in accusation. "See? She gets it!"

Mamoru crossed his arms.

Usagi giggled, brushed Kobayashi off with a flick of her wrist. "Well," she said, swallowing a buttery piece of potato pasta quickly with an appreciative sigh that vibrated through him, "I'm also not the best at dating anymore it seems – if that helps you out, I can relate?" she laughed, and it was Kobayashi's time to return the amused 'Oh?' look.

"Yes!" she said, laughing back, "I had beautiful dates only last week, that didn't work out at all, for one, because I tried to force something, um… impossible?"

Mamoru frowned, tried to catch Usagi's eye across from him. Her tone was good natured, but she avoided his gaze studiously.

"I'd also call that a dating fail," she finished.

Kobayashi lay a hand on her arm, looked at her with sincere concern, leaning a little closer.

It caused Mamoru to claw his fingers into the section of table cloth that met his thighs.

Kobayashi's eyes were dead serious as he spoke. "Did he have a husband? Cause I hate when that happens."

Usagi spluttered out in confused giggles. "WHAT?!" she blubbered, and Saori joined her in the same exact exclamation, while Mamoru only rolled his eyes.

Kobayashi leaned back in his seat defensively, lifted his arms in a defensive shrug, his voice rising a little as he hurried to explain to the table. "Ya know, like when you've been subtly flirting with someone for weeks, and wiggling your eyebrows at them a lot and tried to make them laugh, and ask them on a date," he said, waving his hands and Saori started snorting at the mention of wriggling eyebrows as a flirting technique "…and apparently you were so bad at making your intentions clear, you find yourself at beer pong with this beautiful person of your affection, learning she's a lesbian only when later her wife joins you on the fun night out with friends? Because that may have happened to me twice..."

"TWICE?!" Usagi spluttered, laughing.

"Well, I told you I have a dating disability!" he said, laughing himself, and Mamoru fumed inside at the look he gave her. "I can't flirt, and _obviously_ I'm rubbish at letting people _know_ I'm flirting in the first place and I'm ...I like strong women?"

Saori raised a delicate eyebrow at him. "What, are you saying all strong women are LESBIANS?"

"NO!" Kobayashi said, eyes wide, voice rising in nervous defense. "Just that apparently, I have a type that leans in favor of me being in…" he looked at Usagi helplessly who giggled, "…this sort of… well, I mean, Saori is a strong woman and she's not…" he broke off, blushing. "Oh for god's sakes, will you lay off?"

Saori had her hand up in front of her mouth as she giggled.

And then Saori's giggle turned into a smile, and she addressed Usagi in an amused, but gentle voice. "Apparently, Kobayashi's first relationship was with a girl that didn't know she was in a relationship with him."

"At least that's the story he _always_ tells," Mamoru grumbled, but Usagi reacted at the same time.

" _What_?"

The douche shrugged in that douchy, nice guy way. "Yeah, I found out I _wasn't_ in a relationship, when I learned she had a boyfriend now?"

Usagi giggled right at him this time, throwing Kobayashi an incredulous look, who shrugged again in that 'Oh well' kind of way.

"I mean, this was middle school and my rulebook there might have been _slightly_ off, but we held hands that one time in the dark, and she sat next to me in class so..."

Usagi giggled right out. "Ok, you win," she said, and Kobayashi shot her that infuriating, toothy grin.

"I mean," Kobayashi said, nodding his head towards Saori and him, "we can't always be as perfect and ideal as this infuriatingly good match over there…"

Usagi giggled. "Right."

Mamoru's look darkened.

"Well, us not-so-perfect individuals gotta stick together then, right?" Usagi said with that adorable laughter in her eyes.

Kobayashi chuckled, eyebrows raised. "Ouch, yes, I get it now, that does hurt."

Usagi giggled, and so did Saori. The douche had the whole fucking table charmed.

Since when was Kobayashi so dubious? Was Kobayashi in a gang?

Mamoru glared even harder.

"So, Usagi, tell me," Kobayashi said, changing the topic. "How's living with Chiba Mamoru?"

Mamoru stiffened, and Usagi blinked, and for what felt like the first time this evening, she met his eyes. She was blushing.

"Um… it's really nice?" she said. "Mamoru is a really considerate roommate…"

Saori blinked, perking up. "He is?" She smiled, but it looked sad. Mamoru saw Kobayashi catch that.

"Yes! He…" Usagi said.

Kobayashi interrupted, arm waving and loud, "Nah, don't gimme that curated, nice girl speech. I want dirt on him," he said with a toothy grin.

Saori snorted, amusement back on her cheeks, and she giggled behind her hand. Mamoru lowered his eyebrows in an even deeper glare.

"Um…" Usagi sent him an apologetic look, but then she spoke. "Well, he gets really cross with me when I leave my shit lying around…"

Mamoru puffed up in his chair. "I haven't in weeks!" he interrupted, but she went on.

"…and gets _suuuper_ testy and cross with me sometimes like for NO reason…"

Kobayashi snickered, leaning forward in his chair in glee. Mamoru prousted.

"I… I do have reasons!"

"…and he _irons_ his _underwear_ …"

This time Kobayashi really laughed, and Mamoru glowered. "What, really?" Kobayashi said, slapping his knee like a douche.

"…on Friday nights!"

Mamoru rolled his eyes to Kobayashi's snorting and fist pumping. Even Saori giggled, even if more for the situation than on his expanse.

"… And he takes, these, like, _super_ long showers. I've _never_ met a guy who showers _this_ long, and…"

Mamoru froze. Saori frowned. This was, after all, something she had a perfect estimate on.

"…you think so?" Saori said with a frown… "I don't think he does at all? How long do _you_ shower?"

Usagi blinked, surprised. "But he showers like… at least 40 minutes! Sometimes he…"

Mamoru cleared his throat. "Can we change the subject away from my personal hygiene maybe?" he bit out. Harshly, testily, cross.

"Right," they mumbled, and, "Sorry."

The result was awkward silence that settled the table, right when the waiter arrived with a new bottle of wine. The sound of refilling glasses suddenly sounded boomingly loud.

It was Kobayashi who broke it.

"How long have you lived with Mr. Exciting Friday Night here again, then?" he said, voice forcibly cheery.

Saori chuckled.

"Um… I moved in at the end of August?" Usagi said.

"So, a little under three months?" Kobayashi said, needlessly.

Usagi blinked, caught his eyes in surprise. "…has it really only been three months?"

Mamoru blinked right back at her, when she met his eyes, gaze surprised.

It really _had_ not been that long...

"Wow, yes, I guess," Usagi said, nodding. Then, "And I was really thankful I could move in at such short notice!"

Mamoru almost choked on his wine.

Saori frowned "…hadn't it been planned for weeks prior?" She asked, more at him, than Usagi. Oh god, no. He knew that look. _No_...

Usagi met his wide, panicked eyes confusedly, reading something in them.

"Um, um, yes! But that, I mean… _is_ rather short notice? Ummm, I mean, the Tokyo real estate market is vicious, you know?" Usagi stuttered, trying to save him.

"Right…" Saori said, swallowing thickly, frowning. She regarded him with a look he knew all too well. Saori was the youngest officer in Japan to ever be promoted to detective, after all. She got it figured out now.

Kobayashi cleared his throat, obviously noticing the minefield. For once, Mamoru was thankful when he spoke.

"So, YouTube, Saori told me, eh?"

"Yep," Usagi said, smiling nervously now, popping another piece of gnocchi into her mouth.

"And you have a voluntary job?"

"Yep."

"So, where do you save the world then?" he asked, smiling.

This was a disaster. Saori would know now, Saori would find out. She'd know his feelings… What were his feelings exactly?

He stared at Usagi, across from him. Stunning, captivatingly perfect Usagi with that glow in her hair and the laughter in her smile, thinking herself weirdly _less_ than perfect.

But that was _looks_ … right? _Right_? Lust.

And then Usagi spoke, and Mamoru had half a heart attack.

 _No. Not here. Not now. Don't figure it out_ here _._

"Um," Usagi started, as suddenly everyone looked at her intensely. "I volunteer with this nonprofit association that goes into like, not _only_ orphanages but yeah _often_ orphanages, but also like..." she blushed when she met his shocked gaze, took a sip of wine before she continued "…institutions where there are a lot of kids that come from poor homes or where the parents can't take care of them that well and.. we spend time with them?"

The table had fallen silent, just looking at her. Though he supposed Saori was looking at him, instead.

He was frozen. Completely and utterly frozen, and his heartbeat was in his teeth.

"Oh?" Kobayashi said. Probably more to break the awkward pause at the table than anything else.

"Yeah. Um, we go to like, Odaiba and to arcades and parks and to zoos and petting zoos and, you know? To kid friendly museums and planetariums and the space museum and…" she met his eyes again, then quickly averted them, looking at Kobayashi instead, and scrunched up her nose and cocked her head sideways a little. "I'm actually not THAT good at it because I'm supposed to be like, a responsible adulting guardian, but instead of scolding them when they're loud and reminding them of their schoolwork, I tend to teach them, like, how to throw the popcorn in the _superior_ way and sometimes I get in trouble for that, but I love my kids and I think they like me, too."

Saori and Kobayashi both reacted. Saying things in kind, enamored voices. But… he couldn't hear it. It was all far, far away.

This was… his heart beat wildly. His hands trembled, even when they were in fists at the hem of the table cloth, clenched.

She was perfect. Usagi was the perfect woman. She was an angel in the flesh. She was caring, she was kind, she had the biggest fucking heart on the planet, his heart hurt to, to… and that smile, that sunshine missile of a smile, the way she made him… And those lips, the way they pulled at the corners, and when…

He was breaking apart. Everything felt distant, pain spiked in his head, he felt his breath come short.

"…Mamoru?" Saori's voice sounded far away, as if he was underwater, or behind glass, and she on the other side.

He couldn't _breathe_ , he…

This wasn't just lust.

No. This was something he'd never known before.

His mind snapped through image after image, memory after memory. Usagi's face as she slept in their pillow fort, soft and perfect and burned into his soul, and the exasperated _full_ feeling in his heart because of it. Dinners on the balcony with her giggling softly into her food at him. The goldfish. Her legs clamped around him, as he jumped to the beat of the drums at the autumn matsuri. Her words, her eyes illuminated by the candle light with her skewer in the chocolate fondue.

_"_ _That moment…" she breathed, too near, "when you get to know someone, and your entire being gets obsessed with needing to know this person, to be around them… how you can't think of anyone more interesting and important than this one person… and it feels like someone turned on the lights and the sound and the saturation of all the colors when you're with them… and then…" her voice broke off, and he swallowed, before she started again in a voice so urgent, so…_

_"…_ _and later, the way your hands tremble and your gut hurts and everything hurts because you just need to kiss them, and you dream of them and feel like you can't breathe a second longer that you don't breathe into their mouth and—"_

No. This wasn't lust. This was something he had never known. Had not known to recognize.

When had he started feeling this way about her?

He swallowed.

Orphanages. She volunteered at fucking orphanages. Why didn't he of all people know about this before? She was an open book. She was unafraid to talk of anything. He'd watched her go to that job she went to once per week, week after week, and he'd never asked.

 _He had never asked_. He'd went through hours and hours and hours of Minako-interrogation, shared bits and pieces of his love life with Usagi, but HE never asked HER.

Because, somehow, he'd been afraid to know the details, afraid to get too attached if he knew too much.

But god he wanted to know. He _needed_ to know everything about her.

The questions bubbled out of him, suddenly. Interrupting the conversation, ignoring Saori's concerned look, they bubbled out.

"What's the best fictional hero?" he babbled out.

Usagi blinked at him, it turned to slow, amused confusion.

"Rain or snow?" he fired out, without getting an answer to his question.

"Um, rain when I'm inside, snow when I'm outside?" Usagi answered, quite unsure.

Saori gaped at him.

"What fairy tale character do you relate to most?" he breathed. They tumbled out, all the silly, silly questions, but he suddenly needed to KNOW.

Usagi cocked her head, looking at him peculiarly.

"Mamoru…?" Saori asked again. Her voice was small.

It broke him out of it.

It felt like falling. Like returning from a high, distant perch and suddenly he was back in his seat. In this restaurant. Clinking cutlery at the tables around them, the hum of chatter, Saori's hand on his knee.

His eyes found Saori's. She looked concerned. Confused. …Hurt.

His throat constricted, his stomach plummeted.

He needed to tell her. He needed to tell Saori, he needed to…

His hands started trembling again.

Not here. He'd bring her home, and then… tell her calmly. She knew now, did she not? That look? She knew he'd had Usagi move in _after_ she'd told him she wanted to move in. It would not be the biggest shock... it…

 _Oh god_. How could he do this to her?

How did he… how should he…

Somehow, he didn't know how he did it, the mask was back in place. He placed his hands on hers, nodded, smiled reassuringly.

Not here. Not now. She deserved better.

So, he sat back, shut up, let them talk. Smoothed over his face. Managed to stop glaring even when he wanted to rip Usagi away from Kobayashi, wanted to…

Usagi.

He bit the insides of his cheeks. Allowed himself to focus on her only so often, counting down the seconds he did, looked away.

And somehow, he made it through the rest of the night, and they stood outside in the cold, chilly air, Usagi bundled in that adorably fluffy coat, standing next to Kobayashi.

Usagi rubbed her hands together against the surprisingly chill night air, trying to warm them. He buried his hands in his pocket to refrain from trying to do it for her.

"Well…" she said, tucking that stray little lock of hair behind her ear and flicking her eyes up to him "… I'm sure you two wanna spend the night at Saori's?"

His heart skipped a beat. Yes. Yes, this was wise. He'd walk Saori home, come back up, tell her. It was the best decision, he needed to…

Kobayashi turned to Usagi, that infuriating slime bag of a cheeky smile on his face, and he bumped shoulders with her. "Do you need someone to walk you home?" he said and wriggled his fucking flirting eyebrows.

He freaked, he froze, he wanted to jump in and rip Usagi away and behind his back and lock her in a tower and keep her to himself, and it was childish and sexist but his blood _boiled_ and—

"No," came the reply. Harsh and hard.

But it wasn't him who said it…

It was Saori.

She sobered up immediately, tone turning softer, all eyes on her. "I have an early morning. I can walk you to your station if you want, Kobayashi?"

Mamoru blinked at her, surprised. She met his eyes. They looked…

He nodded. Squeezed her hand, leaned in to kiss her cheek. It was trembling, when his lips touched her skin. He told himself it might be from the cold. Then he swallowed. But with two steps he didn't consciously make, he was at Usagi's side, waving to Saori, and Usagi and Kobayashi barely had time to say goodbye before Saori hurried him down the street.

Only barely.

Kobayashi still kissed Usagi on the cheek, mumbled something against her temple Mamoru tried so hard to hear that made her giggle and blush, and he had never in his life felt the urge to punch Kobayashi in the face before, but there it was.

Instead, he walked her away, Usagi at his side.

And he only then noticed he'd grabbed her hand to lead her away.

He let it drop as if burned.

And for a sudden, irrational, silly moment that he pushed back down immediately, he failed to ignore how right it felt – Saori and Kobayashi walking off together in the one direction, and Usagi and him into the other… going home… together.

He exhaled. He'd bring Usagi home, and then he'd immediately go back to Saori's and … talk.

... Yes. Good plan. Yes.

* * *

Somehow Mamoru was looking at her… differently.

Like, not totally. That look was still there in his eyes but somehow… he didn't hide it?

She shook her head. She was seeing ghosts.

Her heels clicked loudly against the asphalt, and with a sudden shudder, she laced her arms together, feeling the goosebumps crawl up her legs as she shivered.

Only a corner, and they would already see their apartment building.

The more she was surprised, when she felt warm fabric wrap loosely around her neck.

She looked up. Stopped. He did, too, finished wrapping his scarf around her.

"Better?" he asked, in an almost breathless voice.

_What was that look in his eyes?_

She nodded, mutely, and he resumed walking.

"So… how did you… like him?" he asked.

There was something strange in his voice. Something… off. What was it?

She swallowed. Willed back her smile, shoved the confusing thought to the back of her mind. "A lot!" she said with a smile. "He's so sweet! Thank you for introducing me! I think I'll—"

"More than me?" he rushed out. The tone sounded… defeated, almost, and his eyes widened when her eyes met his, looking utterly mortified. The way she always looked whenever stuff came out she just couldn't stop.

Usagi blinked, surprised, wide-eyed.

But they'd arrived at their door, and he shook his head at her in that 'forget it' way, and unlocked it, and pressed the button the elevator before she could begin to work this through.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. The way he stood rigid, the way his hands fiddled nervously with the—

 _Nervous_. _That's_ what it was. Chiba frigging Mamoru looked _nervous_. _What_ —

The elevator dinged, opening its doors to the 11th floor.

He unlocked their door, held it open for her with trembling hands.

She frowned. Was it because of what she'd accidentally said to Saori earlier? Had she gotten him in trouble?

He didn't rush to his room this time, didn't rush away. He wasn't even… weird, or dismissive, or the way he'd been the past few days, ever since…

His hands were in his pockets, and he motioned for her to go in first, and she bent down to unclasp her shoes, and dropped her coat unceremoniously on the narrow dresser, the way he hated.

She exhaled, stepped up from the genkan, unwrapped his scarf slowly from around her neck. Maybe… maybe they could go back to… being civil with each other. Nice. Like before. She was adamant to manage it. She _could_ get over him. Probably! She could learn to spend time with him. Learn to not love him. She was determined.

Mamoru had walked in, but made no motion to take off his shoes, or his coat.

He looked at her wide-eyed. She blinked.

"Um… you coming in?"

He didn't say anything. Turned to the door.

She didn't know what was up. But the way he looked at her in the past few minutes? She didn't wanna lose that.

She spoke before she could think it through.

"We... we could do something together, if you wanted? The night is still young…" Usagi said, kneading her fingers into the soft cashmere of his scarf self-consciously.

He looked at her. Hesitated. Looked at the door.

It looked like he was fighting a battle with himself, and like he was losing.

Then he nodded. "Ok," he whispered.

She found herself back in her room, briefly. What was she doing? She put her head between her legs, counted to three, then…

She jumped up, as if something had bitten her, ripped at the zipper on the side of her dress, yanked it down, ripped at the hem of her dress and pulled it over her head.

Then she stood there, harsh breathing moving her chest up and down, in the middle of the room in her underwear.

What the fuck was wrong with her?

She emerged, minutes later, in her too short but comfortable PJs.

He was waiting in the living room, his eyes flicked at her, surprised. He was still in his suit, of course.

She slipped into the bathroom, washing her face. When she emerged, he was in his cotton sweatpants, too. Standing there.

The ones that rode low on his hips, the ones that would leave that tiny sliver of a gap between the pants and the hem of his black T shirt, whenever he reached up for things.

Fuck. What was she doing?

Her heart hammered.

Alcohol. Alcohol would be her friend now, and ice cream.

She ignored the slight buzz that was already in her system from the wine, and he finally chuckled, finally a normal sound, when she emerged from the kitchen with a pint of ice cream, two spoons and a bottle of champagne that was left over from the last girl's night with Minako and The Bachelor, and finally, she settled down beside him.

His eyes were warm, as he looked at her with a smile.

She flushed. Held out the bottle for him to open.

"Really?" he asked. "More alcohol?"

She shrugged. "The night is young, and so are we?" she said, sheepishly.

"Right," he said with a rather affectionate roll of his eyes, but he opened the bottle. In that professional way, with the small sizzle and the silent kinda pop that he caught with his hand, not the cork almost breaking a window like she mostly did.

He offered it to her, as they sat there, shoulder to shoulder with their backs to his couch on the ugly green rug, and she took a swig right from the bottle, then offered it to him, but he declined, shaking his head.

"So," she asked, "was this a typical date for you?"

He shook his head, frowned briefly. "We… No," he said. "We don't usually get dressed up like this. Just go to that Korean restaurant we've been going to for six years, mostly."

"Oh," Usagi said. Took another swig from the bottle.

"So, it was not, like, your ideal date?" she said.

He snorted rather incredulously. "No. No, it was definitely not."

She frowned at him, and when he caught her look, he… he flushed? And looked away.

When she offered him the bottle again, he took it from her, tipped it up, and took a large swig.

"Well, what _is_ your ideal date?" she asked him, afterwards.

He frowned. Looked at her, looked away. "I don't really … no, I don't know. Read together?"

"Like reading to each other?" Usagi said, opening up the ice cream pint, handing him a spoon. "Aww!"

"Um, no… Well, that sounds nice too, but I meant… read in the same room together. Be productive."

"Oh…" she wrinkled her nose, pulled a face. "Well, that's ghastly."

Mamoru laughed. It was bright and tinkling and infectious, and it made her take another swig from their shared bottle. She was really starting to feel the buzz, and maybe it was better this way.

"Well, what's your ideal date?" he asked, eyes warm. The way he looked at her tonight –

Usagi shrugged, dug her spoon into the ice cream, and talked with it in her mouth. "Kinda like thif?" she said, and wiggled her head around the room. The comfy clothes, the champagne, the ice cream. "Maybe more confetti," she said, swallowing.

He chuckled. "Sorry, don't have any confetti lying around."

"I _have_ confetti in my room, you know? Just say the word."

He chuckled again, chest shaking. "Of course, you have."

When she offered the ice cream again, he took a spoon full, licked at it from the spoon, and she had to look away.

Damn, the alcohol was really starting to kick in.

"So, ice cream, pajamas, and confetti, yes?" Mamoru said, and took a swig from the champagne once the spoon was clean.

"Yep," she shrugged. "Well and—"

She pushed herself to her knees, crawled over to her small, old console and box she had sitting beneath his media board, and started it up.

"What are you—"

"Just wait!" she laughed, and the screen flicked. Yellow characters on black screen, 16-bit music blaring from the speakers.

"Ah," Mamoru said, chuckling. "Street Fighter. Virtual violence, the most romantic of dates."

She grinned at him. The buzz making her heartbeat slow down, making her calmer. Yes. Yes. This was good. She could do this. If only he would not smile at her like that.

"You don't stand a chance," she winked.

He took a large sip from the bottle.

But he took the second gamepad from her anyway.

"Okay, if I win, I get to skip doing chores for two weeks," she said.

"You don't do chores," he deadpanned, immediately.

"Hey!" Usagi huffed, poking him in the arm. "I _do_ do the chores!"

He chuckled, "Yeah, right."

"Ok, then. If I win I get to skip them for four weeks?" she offered.

"What?!" He laughed.

"Well, YOU complained!"

"But … This is not how negotiating works!" he told her, chuckling anyway.

She rolled her eyes.

"And if I win?" Mamoru asked.

"Pft. As if," she snorted.

"I did play this before, you know? I'm friends with Motoki."

"Yeah, right," she snorted once more.

He gave her a look, took a swig from the bottle. She did notice his movements were becoming a little… sloppy. How much had he drunk at the restaurant? Two glasses? Three? She hadn't paid attention.

"Ok, well," she said. Giving in. "I don't know, what do you want?"

He shrugged, threw her that… kind of half-smile she'd never seen on him before and that made her tingle. "You tell me," he said with that smile.

She grabbed the bottle from his hand, took a swig. She was getting really, really warm.

"Right. Well, I don't know. If I play with my kids their stakes are usually a ride on a ferris wheel but since you—"

He pressed ok.

Usagi blubbered, laughing, even as Mamoru clicked through the menu and picked Ryu as his champion.

"What! Mamoru!" she laughed. "I was kidding! What?! Really?! A ferris wheel ride with me?"

Mamoru blushed, but didn't say anything.

"You pressed ok!" she said.

"My hand slipped," he mumbled, took another swig.

"Right," she deadpanned.

He shrugged. "You said it yourself, I have no chance at winning this!"

She picked Chun-Lee.

He snorted into the bottle.

"It's a deal," she said.

"What?"

"Deal!"

She lost on purpose.

He threw her a look. "Oh, c'mon."

"Gotta go on a ferris wheel ride with me, then," she shrugged with a grin, arms up.

He started a next round. "Right. Best out of five."

She rolled her eyes, played again, for real this time.

He wasn't all _that_ bad at it… At least she found herself giggling a lot when he cursed at the screen.

Best out of five turned into best out of ten, and when the champagne bottle was empty, Mamoru went and got the second one they still had in the fridge from her girl's nights.

She found herself in giggle fits when Mamoru started mimicking the poor excuse for a narrator, shouting "Round One!" and "Fight!" at the screen in a silly, lowered and exaggerated voice.

Usagi won 12 out of 15 and was declared the winner. She insisted to take him on a ferris wheel ride, anyway.

"Can I ask you something?" she murmured. Her vision was starting to get a little blurry.

"Anything," Mamoru said. He leaned with his elbow on the couch. Close, so close.

"What's Kobayashi's first name?" she asked. Then blinked. That wasn't even what she wanted to ask.

"Maru. Why?" Mamoru said, face darkening.

"Why did Saori think I'd planned to move in for much longer?" There. That was what she wanted to ask. She nodded. It came a bit slow.

He shook his head, wobbled a little. Shit damn were they both drunk. "Anything but that," he said, a little slurred.

She pursed her lips at him.

And then there it was again, that half smile. That slow, sexy half-smile, so, so near. She felt it in her gut, in the beat of her heart, in the piercing, clenching feeling between her thighs that she pressed together in reflex and swallowed, wide-eyed, up at him. Too close. Way, way, way too close.

"Why are you so fucking perfect," Mamoru whispered. His eyes were half-lidded and focused on her lips, but his words were calm.

Usagi blinked. Had he… Did he… Had she just imagined that?

Ok. Too drunk, then.

"You think I'm perfect?!" she asked incredulously.

He wet his lips. So close. "I didn't say that," he said, blinking.

She nodded, vehemently. It shook the world when she did. "Yes. Yes, you did…" she said, trying not to slur the words but failing.

"Oh," he said, frowning. Slow and hard. "Well, ok, then. Yes. Yes, you are. It's infuriating that you don't know."

Her breath caught. He did not just say that. She wet her lips. "You're drunk."

"So are you."

She shrugged. "Yep," she said, and then she giggled.

Her head fell on his shoulder in the process, and then she jumped away.

And then there were his lips. Warm and wet and moving against hers, teeth against her lower lip and a shudder on her tongue.

His lips trembled, his breath in puffs against hers and they shook so hard her lips moved under the tremor of his.

The feeling of her tongue touching his, the way they ground and moved to the rhythm of her frantic heartbeat, the way her hands started to claw and pull, and the way she dove into his mouth like she needed him to brand her.

She didn't know how it had happened, didn't know how it had started. She only knew she ended up in his lap, attacking his mouth like it was the only chance she'd ever have, and the lips that pressed to hers were warm, and frenzied, and his tongue slipped against and under hers in a way that made her want to explode and crawl inside of him and started to burn wet and hot inside of her, and the way he melted underneath her lips, groaned and whispered her name as he pulled her down and closer to his mouth with a powerful yank, his fingers slipping against her scalp.

She ground into him, blind, fast, frantic, delirious, felt him come undone beneath her, as she pressed her thighs against his thighs and her crotch against the hardened front of his, felt him buck his hips with a cry and slip his lips down her neck, his hands into her shirt and she shuddered, hard, ripped it off of her, and his lips were on her skin, the pads of his fingers on her back slipping underneath the straps of her bra and digging into her flesh.

He was as crazed as her, kissing where he could, and back at her lips, hectic, never stopping, and his hands, digging into her skin, the way his kisses felt like they were pulling her apart.

It was the most thrilling feeling she had ever felt, she needed more, god, please _more_ …

But that whisper. That whisper in her mind that tried to get through her drunken state of mind, tried to pull her from the press of his wet tongue in her mouth, his trembling skin beneath her fingertips, his guttural groans muffled by her mouth.

 _Saori_.

She pushed at his shoulders – her eyes shot open.

"SAORI!" she called, hands clamped over her mouth, and she scrambled away from him, his lips following her that little ways, his eyes opening slowly as if from a stupor.

He blinked at her, wide-eyed. His eyes opened fully, finally, and he froze.

She trembled. Everything in her trembled. What had she done? What the fuck had she done? She wasn't a homewrecker. She _wasn't_. And yet… How could she have—

The tears fell. "I'm so sorry," she cried out, hand clamping against her mouth.

He was completely frozen, the way he sat there. His collar pulled back, the skin against his neck where she had sucked and bitten starting to redden. His wide eyes didn't even… He was… Was he in shock?

He didn't react, sat there, stupefied, as she rushed into her room and slammed the door.

* * *

She held her breath for a second when she heard his feet shuffle in front of her door, and she sunk further into her blanket, pretended to sleep. Frowned at her phone display as it told her the time, and it was way past the time he'd usually leave – like _way_ past, and yet she still heard him move around the apartment.

It had been the third time he'd been in front of her door this morning. The first he'd just stood there, too. The second time, he'd knocked – very softly, and waited.

She pulled her comforter over her head, scrunched her eyes shut.

_No, no, no, no, no. Usagi, no. You can't do this. He's engaged. This was a mistake. A giant mistake. You can't do this to Saori. You're not this kinda person. He's absolutely off limits._

And yet, her mind kept wandering back to his lips. Pressed against hers so tightly. The desperate sounds he'd made, the way his hands had dug so deep, so needy, the way he'd clutched at her and made her gasp – the _hunger_ in his touch…

As if he'd been longing as much as she had been.

Her heart throbbed when – an hour after his usual time – the front door finally clicked shut. Part in relief, and yet… the tears started to bubble freely, and a moment longer and she was sobbing into her comforter so badly, and so hard, in a way she couldn't remember crying before.

She'd need to move out. As quickly as possible. She couldn't do this. She couldn't be here and do this to Saori, and she couldn't be here and pretend nothing happened, and she couldn't pretend anymore that Mamoru wasn't the man she dreamed about when she closed her eyes, and that his hands didn't make her tingle in ways she couldn't name when he touched her accidentally, and she couldn't pretend that his kiss and his hands hadn't left marks so deep, she knew she would crave him like crack cocaine.

This was all her fault. She knew how she felt about him, and yet she'd stayed. The girls were right, something like this was bound to happen, and it was all her fault.

She couldn't do this. She couldn't pretend. She wouldn't be able to keep away.

Self-discipline had never been her thing. She would cave like she would always cave when something she wanted was in close vicinity.

And Mamoru was so much more delicious than any ice-cream. He was the most tempting kind of treat of all.

So, she had to do the responsible thing here. She would have to leave and never see him again. As soon as possible.

It was a while before she peeled herself out of bed, and her throat was raw from crying. Why did the thought hurt so incredibly much?

And she cringed at herself for the way she put her ear against the bathroom door after she was done showering, afraid he'd returned while she couldn't hear under the spray of water.

She'd fled, then. Sat in Mako-chan's backroom instead of in her usual spot with the cake, because she'd been afraid he might walk by and find her there, see her through the picture windows and come inside.

She'd hiccupped in her crying, and Makoto had given her one of those grounding, tight hugs and didn't mind that Usagi got her apron all wet and stroked her hair and told her she was doing the right thing.

Then she'd helped her put up apartment queries on every outlet possible, all over the internet, and vowed to call everyone she knew.

Usagi gave herself a week. She could withstand temptation for a week. Or hide if she couldn't. She would search for new apartments, and after the week was out, she would either have a new place… or move back in with her parents.

And maybe she could even manage to avoid him until then.

And when Makoto lowered the shutters and it had gotten dark outside, and Usagi could no longer avoid going home, every step felt heavier and heavier, and she glared at her phone, because she couldn't even call Minako and ask for advice, because Minako was on a job and Usagi felt helpless.

Usagi's hands trembled so much by the time she got to their front door that the key wouldn't slip into the lock, over and over.

She froze, when the door opened from inside, and Mamoru stood there, hands in his pockets, lips pressed together and eyes so… so…

"You're home early," she said. And it was a stupid thing to say, because it was extremely late.

"I called in sick today," he said, anyway.

She blinked, hard, moved her gaze to the floor and stuttered out a thank you for opening the door for her.

She got halfway to her room, ignoring his soft 'wait!', until she felt his hand on her shoulder, and she froze again.

"Can we talk?" he asked. His voice trembled.

She sighed. Pressed her eyes shut. Of course, she couldn't avoid him. Would have been too convenient.

The lump in her throat formed back up, but soon she found herself sitting on their balcony, like they'd done so often before, and he handed her that big bunny shaped mug of hers, and it smelled of thick cocoa and had a generous swirl of cream mounted on top, and his own coffee sloshed a bit in his cup when he sat down.

His hands were trembling, too.

She averted her eyes quickly, back to her mug. _Don't look, don't look, don't even look at these hands._

"Look," he started.

She shook her head. This wouldn't do. He'd take all the blame even though it was all her fault. She made him drink past his limit. She flirted. She'd decided to keep living here in the first place when she knew she… when she'd long stopped ignoring the way her heart jumped when he smiled, the way her breath became erratic when he quirked his eyebrow, the way heat would rush hard and fast into her belly and make the blood prickle underneath her fingertips when he'd step out of the bathroom and glisten and his… and all she wanted to do was jump this delicious man and lick the water off that chest.

She shook her head, fast. Her hair swished around her. _Own up, Tsukino. Showtime. You know what you must do._

"I'm so sorry," she said quickly. "You don't have to say it. I know it was a mistake. You have Saori, and I…" she frowned, threw him a look.

His eyes were wide, and he was gripping his coffee mug so tight his knuckles turned white.

"I mean… it didn't even mean anything, and I'm sorry I've put you into this position."

He swallowed, thickly.

"Right…" he said.

"I mean…" _Lie, Usagi. Lie. Like you've never lied before._ "I don't even…" She swallowed. "You know I've just broke up with someone, and I…"

Why couldn't she say it? She should just say she doesn't feel anything for him, and she was sorry she got him drunk, and it didn't mean a single thing and it wasn't like she'd licked her lips all day because she couldn't shake the feeling of his lips branded into the skin of hers, and she didn't cry all day because the thought of never seeing him again felt like carving out her gut with a dull fork and…

"I'm sorry I put you into this situation, when it didn't even…" She cut off again. Why can't she say it? Why can't she lie?

"Right." His voice was small. So, so small.

She took a sip of her cocoa. It was perfect. And it burned down her throat.

"I've started looking for apartments," she said, finally.

At this, his head whipped up, and she jumped in her seat a little, startled.

"What?" he said, wide-eyed.

She swallowed, averted her eyes. Jumped a bit when she suddenly felt Luna's soft little fur against her skin, her tail twirled around her leg.

Usagi exhaled slowly. "You'll be rid of me by the end of the week. I figured we should—"

She shook her head and put her mug on the table.

She couldn't do this. She couldn't say these things she'd been prepared to say. That she had no feelings for him, but she should move out anyway. And he would have agreed and said it would be for the better, and she'd sworn to be out of his life and never tell Saori and then proceeded to lie of a date she would have next week, but the words wouldn't come.

She couldn't do this, and so she had to run.

She stood up abruptly, causing Luna to jump a little.

"Anyway," she said, and Mamoru's shoulders were slumped, and he didn't look up. "I'm meeting Minako and I'm late."

 _Now,_ she could lie. Go figures.

He nodded, slowly.

And when she'd slipped out, he'd bent down and picked up Luna from the floor and sighed deeply, and started scratching her little head.

Luna looked back at him with those too-smart eyes that looked accusing and yet they couldn't be.

"I broke up with Saori this morning," he whispered to Luna, once the door had clicked shut and he knew Usagi was gone, and Luna's ears twitched. "Is what I wanted to tell you."

He sighed again, hitting his head back against the window behind him with a dull thud, focused on the steady, bright, orange and white of Tokyo Tower in the night sky, and exhaled a shaky breath.

"And I'm in love with you.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, on Kobayashi: What we have of him is obviously just an episode, and that was all I had to go on for his characterization. But, as episodes went, it WAS kind of rich for that, so, here we have a guy who is obviously utterly rubbish at letting this girl her likes know he likes her. And also, he's just that tad creepy since HE STALKS THE GIRL WHILE HE THINKS SHE'S ON A DATE. I mean, with Chibs in tow, ok, but still lol. He's a little self-conscious, but builds his friend up, encourages her even to follow both her dreams and the man of her dreams, even if that is in direct contradiction to his own interests. So, nice guy. With a habit of making bad jokes that make people glare at him. Also, since HE wasn't the target in that episode, also not the biggest purest good guy dreamer like Saori was, just the biggest piner, but, y'know, nice about it, not pushy.
> 
> So, what I was going for here was the kind of good, goofy guy dating disaster with the biggest heart, and extremely funny. You know, a little like Jeff from Coupling, just a little less on the creepy? A little nicer, more empathic and considerate, but keeping the ridiculous?
> 
> So, full disclosure, while he's not like him overall at all, I did kinda give Kobayashi a few aspects of my husband, lol, you know, just for the NICE bit. But… ya know, since *I'm* Saori in this story, this kinda… fits? Lol? (And no, I did not meet my husband this way, absolutely not xD) Also, I gave Kobayashi a first name, and if you recognize it, you pass a giant geek bar, lol.
> 
> Also, fun fact: Saori's original voice actress's name was Yuuko Kobayashi. Just thought I'd throw that out there xD.
> 
> Also, yes, obviously this had to be a train-wreck. Soorrrryyyy. Let me know what you think, anyway? xD


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, guys. Your response to last chapter! I am so happy and so blown away! Thank you so much! So, this chapter is coming to you a little quicker again – and be warned, it's penultimate chapter! There will be one more, and then an epilogue, so, expect this to wrap up, soon!
> 
> Thank you, as always, to my wonderful beta Uglygreenjacket. Thank you so much for your support, love!
> 
> One last note: A few people were unhappy with the kiss last chapter – or much rather, the circumstances under which it happened. I hear you, guys. Absolutely! And I get it. (And I even agree!) It was far from ideal. But I wanted to build a story where every character had their heart at the right place, and yet the situation was still as messy and complicated as can be, and untangle it bit by bit. One of the underlying questions of this fic for me always was: What is cheating? WHEN is cheating? And so, scenes that walk the line, and hop on it, and cross it (depending on what your answer to this question is, or not) were in my plan from the start. You can be a wonderful person with all the right intentions and still make very dumb decisions. (Also, a little fair warning: if you weren't happy with that scene last chapter, you might hate this one, lol?)
> 
> Anyway, please let me know what you think! :D

 

Usagi woke up with a start, heart pounding. It took her a second to orientate herself, to place the distinct, hollow rattle that had woken her up.

The bells of Hikawa shrine. Someone had rattled them, clapped two times, all of it rather loudly.

She groaned into Rei's pillow. The sleek, grey alarm next her read 6:53 am, and yet the other side of the large bed Usagi had shared was empty.

Another rattle. More clapping.

A shrine was not as quiet to sleep at as one thought, especially when the doors were literally made from paper.

Usagi groaned once more, and then decided to get up. She could soak up in the shrine's rather luxurious bath area, get her ass to her voluntary job, eat a few onigiri from the conbini by the station on the go, maybe get a vlog in afterwards. Today was Mamoru's night shift – it was safe to go home, later. She could sleep a little more, then.

Her shoulders slumped as she padded her way into the little wooden bathroom and fired up the rather ancient boiler.

She undressed, washed her hair perched on the little plastic stool next to the tub, piled her hair up into one of Rei's red shower caps, and slid into the hot water, finally.

She sighed, deep and long, crossed her arms on the rim of the tub just by the little window, and rested her cheek on her hands as she looked out towards the trees outside. Sunlight filtered through the leaves. It looked peaceful and calm and didn't match her mood at all.

It had been a week now, of avoiding Mamoru and that kiss. But what else could she do?

She hadn't found an apartment she could afford. Makoto's couch was currently in the midst of a blossoming love, and so Usagi did not want to take her up on the offer. Rei was accommodating her as best she could – and Usagi had had to physically restrain her from kicking down Mamoru's door and giving him hell (and she suspected some of those plentiful ema that Rei had been scribbling wishes on for the gods this past week involved some very angry threats to Mamoru's private parts, anyway) – but it was definitely not a long-term solution.

Grandpa Hino's old room was Rei's room now, Rei's old room, and the guest room that used to be Yuichiro's back in the day when he still lived here, housed the two Mikos Rei had taken in years ago. There was no place for her here, not really.

She had nowhere to go, and yet today she would pack up her things.

* * *

He placed the glass mug on the wooden countertop with a thud, the clear, yellow liquid sloshing as he did.

Mamoru wasn't a beer person. Not usually. But…

He sighed. A second, much emptier glass was noisily placed at the seat beside him.

"Soo..." his newly anointed drinking companion said with a slight, annoyed edge to his voice. "You threw it all away, for a girl that doesn't even want you?"

Mamoru shrugged.

The izakaya was noisy this time of day. Groups of people were laughing and shouting at individual tables, the counter was packed with loudly chatting and toasting people, chefs reached across the counter to hand out ceramic dishes filled with fried meat and vegetables, waiters filled over the small wooden jugs of sake and carried beers and highballs. It was a lively atmosphere. A happy atmosphere. The absolute contrast program to what was going on inside of him.

It was the kind of time he would usually not be found dead in a place like this, but… going home meant going home to an empty apartment, most likely, and he couldn't face that right now.

"Do you regret it..." came the voice beside him.

Mamoru frowned into his glass. "... no," he mumbled after a while.

He was awarded with a rather shocked frown.

Mamoru wet his lips, took a sip of his drink. The almost citrusy, light but bitter taste of the beer irritated his tongue, but he took another right away.

He placed the glass back on the counter noisily and sighed. "Not breaking up, at least," he said after a while, staring into the content of his glass thoughtfully. "It's one thing about this all that I don't regret, perhaps…"

The shock shifted to bewilderment. Like someone would look at you if you told them you just turned down a lottery win.

Mamoru huffed into his beer, gave another shrug. "Usagi opened my eyes. I... I fell in love for the first time in my life. It's only right I broke things off with the woman I promised to marry after I realized that, don't you think?" he mumbled, threw him a look. "…no matter if I got the girl or not."

He huffed into his yakitori. "Hm. If you view it like that…"

Mamoru leaned back, exhaled long and audibly, and looked briefly at the ceiling, rather helplessly. "... I just…"

"Hm?" he made.

Mamoru threw him a look. "I really would have loved to get the girl, you know?" he said in a tired voice. His seat neighbor responded with a sympathetic huff, and clinked his glass against Mamoru's on the counter, raising it as a toast.

A beat of silence passed that wasn't silent at all, because the noisy establishment wouldn't allow for such things.

Mamoru's shoulder slumped and he put his elbows on the bar, head ducking. "Will you take care of her?" he asked. "She'll need a friend now..."

Kobayashi nodded, swallowed.

* * *

Usagi folded her moon and bunnies comforter haphazardly, and threw it into the blue IKEA bag next to the opened up cardboard box, phone lodged between her chin and shoulder.

The bed looked naked like that, just with the white sheets. It made her sad.

"Where will you go?" Ami's voice asked in that gentle, gentle Ami tone.

Usagi sighed, shrugged her shoulder even when Ami couldn't see, and rolled her fragile reflector into her favorite dress, before putting it into the box by her feet.

She wasn't going at this very strategically. Her packing was mostly priority by now and had no system to it. Her laptop, camera bag, reflectors, her Totoro lunch box, her old plushed rabbit and cookie stash all thrown into this box, her comforter and most of her top favorite clothes in another. She guessed she knew what she'd take to a lonely island. And just like her packing, her plans had no system either. She really didn't know where to go, only where she could go and didn't want to go.

She pouted into her phone. "…I guess I'll need to own up to being a total failure and go back to my parents…" she said.

The line was silent for a while.

"You can come stay with me for a little while, you know?" Ami said.

Usagi swallowed. It was so tempting to say yes…

"Your state exam is coming up, Ami-chan," Usagi reminded.

Usagi would never forgive herself, if she jeopardized this for Ami…

"Well, yes, it is, but…" Ami said.

Usagi swallowed, shook her head again, unseen.

"I'll figure something out," Usagi said, with conviction this time.

Ami took a second to reply, and Usagi placed her power bank and phone charger amongst a stack of her underwear.

"I want you to know that you're welcome here," Ami said.

Usagi nodded again. "I know," she said, but it was dismissive.

The line went silence for a second, before Ami spoke again. "Usagi-chan? Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," she said.

Ami's voice was small, when she spoke. Almost tentative. Trying to spare her feelings, Usagi was sure.

"Why did you not tell him how you felt?" she asked finally.

The question vibrated through Usagi, and it scared her a little. "How would _you_ feel, if you had a fiancé and the woman he lives with confessed to him?" Usagi whispered. "And besides…"

Usagi sighed, bit her lip. And really, what did she have to gain by doing that? Her best case scenario was also the worst case scenario. She sighed again, before she spoke. "If he has any feelings towards me, I ruined a relationship. I don't value my own feelings over someone else's relationship…"

"Oh, Usagi…"

Usagi shrugged, lips locked in a pout, and she tucked on one of her dresses in her wardrobe, slipping it from the hanger without removing the hanger.

"And even despite all that, if I didn't care about all that, which I _do_ , I… it would just have made things awkward," she almost whispered, stuffing the dress into her IKEA bag. "I _know_ he doesn't have these feelings for me. I know he was drunk, didn't think. Why… torture myself even more?"

Usagi couldn't help the small sniff at the end, and the line went, once again, silent for a second or two.

"Would it…" Ami started, halted. The way she did when she was searching for the right words, for the kind kind of words. "Would it… have made a difference for you if you'd … had reason to think he liked you back?"

There was another emotion laced through Ami's voice. Usagi frowned, but she couldn't pinpoint it. Instead, she focused on the painful question.

Would it have?

She shook her head dismissively. "Ami-chan, this man told me he did not believe in love, remember? I'd be very stupid to… expect…"

"Let's say he did," Ami interrupted her. "Would it have made a difference?"

Usagi exhaled, halted in the throwing of her bunched up bunny socks into the cardboard box.

Would it have…?

She exhaled heavily. "No. I'd have still ruined a relationship."

* * *

"What _do_ you regret?" Kobayashi said after a while.

Mamoru's brow wrinkled. He didn't answer for a while. What about the jumbled mess he'd caused _didn't_ he regret? But…

He did regret not insisting to go with Saori that night. Explain right away. Break it off right then. He did regret not leaving when he had the chance. He did regret drinking that much that night. He regretted a damn load of things from _way_ before that… Way, _way_ before that…

"What should I have done?" Mamoru asked the beer glass, then sighed. "I could have... _should_ have broken things off with Saori sooner. But... do I turn and break off a decade long relationship because I have a crush?"

_Because I got a boner for my roommate a couple times? Because I had eyes? Because I told myself that's what it was?_

Kobayashi's eyes were slightly accusing, and Mamoru really couldn't blame him. "You should have turned away from that crush. Not let her move in. Fidelity is a decision in parts. You decide to not look, to turn away if you crush."

Mamoru's eyebrows lowered, letting a beat pass. "Yeah... I agree," he said after a second.

Kobayashi deflated a little, threw him a look that turned at least a little milder.

"I would have, too," Mamoru said, still frowning at he met Kobayashi's eyes. "Turned away? I was going to…" He lifted his glass for another sip.

He swallowed, the bitter but cold liquid burning along his throat.

"I think, in some way… had it been any different kind of situation, I would have taken one look at Usagi and I would have run. I'd have never seen her again. Ignored it completely. And I _did_ , in a way. Not the seeing, obviously. But the ignoring?" He threw Kobayashi a look, who flicked his wrist at him to continue.

Mamoru wet his lips. "Deep down, from the beginning, I _knew_ the risk. And I would not have taken it. I was so adamant to stick with Saori. To not even look. But…"

"But?"

"She was _there_. She lives with me. I couldn't run. She was literally IN MY HOME." Mamoru's shoulders had raised, and so had his voice a little, and he took another sip from his jug.

"Because you allowed her to be," Kobayashi threw in.

"Yes," Mamoru said, deflating. "Yes… And I… I _want_ to regret that. And I do for _Saori_ … but… not for me, I don't. It's so fucking shitty, but I don't."

Kobayashi pursed his lips with a frown but kept silent.

Mamore averted his eyes. Back into the safe, now emptier glass. "…I didn't even _think_ of Saori when I kissed Usagi. Not a single thought…" he admitted, voice low and quiet.

Kobayashi flinched.

"I just… I forgot her. I forgot everything. It was just Usagi and me and the alcohol and…"

"I hope you didn't tell Saori that particular piece of information…" Kobayashi remarked.

Mamoru's eyes widened as they turned back to his drinking companion. " _Of course not_! I broke her heart, I didn't have to put it through a blender, too."

Kobayashi nodded.

Mamoru's elbows turned back onto the bar, while Kobayashi raised his empty glass towards the nearest waiter. "So... I should have broken up way before? But I didn't understand..." he broke off, sighing deeply with his brow creased into furrows, before he started again, jumbled thoughts a split fraction more collected. "I … do love Saori. I _thought_ I did. I _think_ I do. But… She is my best friend. She was my only friend for so long. And… our relationship wasn't bad. At _all_. It was comfortable and warm and orderly and so perfect on paper and…"

He leaned back in his stool with a huff, the wood wriggled underneath him a little, and he swallowed. "…and it was all I could imagine I needed. ... I just…"

He rolled frustrated eyes to the ceiling. Kobayashi sat turned to him, waiting the short silence out.

"I just... I didn't even know that this feeling could be so ..." His frown turned deeper, more frustrated. Why was it so hard to even put into words? He was a man of words, words had never alluded him in his life before, and now… He groaned, pushed his hands over his face briefly. "I love Usagi _more_. I can't describe it, but it's so _different_. New. Harder. Faster. I can't sleep. I can't think. I've never felt this before, I…"

Kobayashi nodded with a sigh, not lifting his head from his own beer jug, but he'd stopped eating.

"I should have been honest with her, though. With Saori. About my confused panic. No matter if I understood it or not," Mamoru said, and Kobayashi nodded with a frown. "I realize that now. I tried to spare her feelings, because I didn't want to hurt her for something I was adamant to never let happen... and I was a coward. I should have told her what was going on inside of me."

"... I don't know man…" Kobayashi said in a pressed voice, leaning back.

Mamoru threw him a look.

Kobayashi shrugged at him rather helplessly. "I mean… you _could_ have talked with Saori about what _would_ happen, if this sort of situation ever arose. You know, prepare for this sort of situation _beforehand_ , just in case? Because personally… I would not just assume to know if my partner wanted to know or not in a situation like this, especially if you're decided to not let it… complicate things? If you know what I mean? 'Oh honey, yesterday I had this boner for Yuki in Accounting again, but don't worry, I'm sticking with you, because it's nothing'?"

Mamoru flinched at the imagery.

"I really think it's better to prepare for stuff like that in advance. Talk about your standpoints with your partner, ask them what they would want you to do if you find yourself with a crush however minor, when it's still all hypothetical and you can go all, 'I _know_ it won't happen, but let's just talk about 'what if'?" Kobayashi said, and leaned back over his plate of Yakitori. "Besides, you had _ten_ _years_ to talk about this. And she's a cop, a _damn good_ cop, she knows all about unplanned crimes of passion."

One of the izakaya staff leaned across the bar, exchanged Kobayashi's empty glass with a new one, who nodded in thanks.

Mamoru frowned. He hadn't ever thought he would find himself in an argument about romantic feelings where he wasn't the more practical, cynical part in it… But… Was a relationship something he would want to vaccine against all possible hazards like this? Assume from the start that his emotions might stray and prepare for the situation in advance? Didn't that… And yet, he _knew_ Kobayashi was right, that this would have been the most rational thing to have done. But… "But…I didn't BELIEVE in this situation before it happened to me. How could I have…" Mamoru pressed out.

Kobayashi blinked at him in confusion, lost to his train of thought.

"Usagi literally said she broke up with her ex because she knew this kind of love exists, and she didn't want to be waiting around for that while still with someone else… and I…" Mamoru swallowed. "Saori was my first relationship. Before I met Usagi I've _never_ looked at anyone else like that. I didn't _have_ eyes, there never was a Yuki in Accounting for me, even for a _second_. _Ever_."

Kobayashi's confused blinking turned into even more confused surprise.

"I _really_ didn't believe in it. In passionate love that could overpower your brain like that, I thought it was fairy tale, a myth. I judged everyone harshly who excused their – for me so obviously controllable – misgivings with terms like this. How could I have prepared for something I didn't believe in, that I didn't even get when it was right in front of my eyes?" Mamoru said, and looked to the ceiling again with a deep, heavy sigh.

"I didn't see it, he continued. "I mistook it. I always believed… you know, that passionate love wasn't needed for a marriage. That passion was silly and dangerous and maybe even a lie people told themselves to excuse their indecisiveness in a partner, romanticizing it. People didn't marry for passion or love up until the frigging 19th century, and even now it's making most people miserable instead of happy and yet… I can't…" he broke off, ran a hand through his hair that was an absolute mess, and exhaled heavily.

"Even if I'm miserable now for the rest of my life, I can't not want to feel this," Mamoru almost whispered, almost pitifully. "And it hit me like a fucking freight car, no warning signs at all... how could I have prepared for that?"

Kobayashi only sighed.

Mamoru pressed his lips together, staring into his now empty glass. "I've had these feelings for three months. I didn't understand them, but I had them. Right away, I had them. And the moment I finally did understand them, it took me exactly 10 hours and 43 minutes to break up with Saori, throw it all away. I didn't hesitate. But say, if I _had_ understood sooner? Should I have done what I did now, when I did? Should I have ran to Saori, 10 hours and 43 minutes after I realized that I had fallen in love, and drop a relationship I've been in for ten years, like the figurative hot potato, break every promise I've ever made, because Usagi brought me a bottle of wine to an apartment viewing with a dimpled smile? Or because she giggled at me in a pillow fort? I… is that… what was expected of me? Is that what people do?"

Kobayashi shook his head slowly, lifted his hands, shrugging, at a loss, too.

Then Kobayashi lifted his newly refilled beer, clinked his glass against Mamoru's empty one, and only spoke before he'd taken a large sip.

"I really don't think there is a single way you could have behaved completely right in this situation, given the fact you're a dumb idiot," Kobayashi said, and Mamoru snorted in agreement.

"It's a rotten, complicated situation. Someone would have always gotten hurt," Kobayashi continued. "I'm gonna be shitty and say I'm glad you got hurt too, not just Saori," he said.

Mamoru nodded, all the 'that's fair' written in his pursed lips that he could manage.

He hrmphed, dropped his elbows, once again, on the bar. "... there's also that layer where I think I actively denied figuring it out sooner. Just so that I wouldn't lose Usagi," Mamoru murmured.

Kobayashi rubbed his eyes, threw him a look. There was both pity and judgement in his eyes.

And of course, Mamoru knew where at least some little part of the pity came from.

He lost Usagi anyway.

* * *

When Mamoru came home, he slipped off his shoes and socks and stayed sitting on the steps of the genkan for a moment, not even attempting to reach for his slippers.

Instead, he listened into the silence that hurt him so much.

His heart started hammering hard when he realized that for the second time this day, the silence wasn't silent.

There were sounds coming from her room.

He stumbled over the step of the genkan, his knee hitting the hardwood floor and his palm catching on the floor, but he got back up in the same, single motion as he'd fallen.

His throat was dry, his heart deafening, and there she was.

She looked so small, standing there in this big, thick woolen cardigan and tight jeans, and her eyes were wide, and she froze, as her gaze landed on him over, over…

Cardboard boxes. Moving boxes. Open. Being filled.

His throat constricted, he had no control over his face.

 _No_.

"Please…" he whispered.

"Why is your night shift never your night shift anymore?" she whispered back.

He swallowed. His hands started trembling. Had she… Had she wanted to just move out in the middle of the night? Had she wanted to just move this all out while he was gone, disappear on him all together? Just like that and… he would never see her again?

He knew it was her choice. He knew there was nothing he could or even ever should do if she wanted to move out, but…

His hands still trembled, the hurt, the loss, the irritation all bubbling out to the surface, but staying in.

"Can we talk about this?" he whispered. It broke in the middle.

She had turned away from him, moved back to her wardrobe. Her hands were trembling too, he saw, as she transferred a bunch of clothes with their hangers into an empty box.

"I don't think that's the best idea," Usagi said, turned away.

The next item she extracted from her wardrobe was her Haori jacket – the one she's worn to the festival with him. It disappeared into a different box.

He trembled harder, shaking now, rubbed his hands over his eyes and took the step into the room.

"Usagi…"

She took a hard breath. Turned back to him, but looked at the floor studiously. "I can't do this, Mamo-chan," she whispered.

His heart skipped a beat. Nickname. She still used the nickname. He hadn't fucked it all up.

"What can't you do?" he whispered back, too urgent.

Her eyes flared up. Met him for just a second, flashing. Angry, before she averted her eyes to his lips, his chest, and her hands were in the air.

"THIS. PRETENDING. IGNORING THE FACT I made you CHEAT on your fiancé. I can't be that woman and I don't—"

"Usagi—"

"—know what the hell you think we should talk about, but it sure as hell won't—"

"Ugh, why _won't you listen to_ _me_?!" he yelled out, frustrated, too loud.

Her tone was louder, and she whirled around. "WHAT'S THERE TO LISTEN TO, YOU'RE BASICALLY A MARRIED MAN!" she shouted. It was the first time she met his eyes, and she came close, so close, and it paralyzed him and caused his blood to roar at the same time.

"I'm NOT a married man and neither will I—"

"WELL, ALMOST, THEN, SAME THING—"

"I'M _NOT_ —"

"I'M NOT GOING TO RUIN THIS FOR YOU—"

Everything in him flushed, bubbled, angry, frustrated, roaring. "YOU'RE THE MOST INFURIATING WOMAN ON THE FUCKING PLANET," he shouted back, as loud as her, at the same time, holding her gaze.

" _I'M_ INFURIATING?!" she yelped, and now she was right in his face, eyes wide and so close, so close.

"Yes. Yes, you _are_!" he exclaimed, still too emotional. Too worked up. His hands flew into his hair, trying to calm down, trying not to freak out. This was wrong, this was entirely wrong. How—

She whirled around. Her oversized cardigan and some of her hair slapped against his arm and he reached out to stop her, faltered.

"I don't want to _scream_ these things at you, Usagi! Please, can't we just—" Mamoru said, nerves fluttering.

She put her hands over her face, groaned into her too long sleeves loudly, spoke into them, muffling the sound. "UGH, why can't you just step back and let me do this, let me get out of here and not make a mess for you when I—"

"Usagi—"

He came closer, hovered his hands above her arms, not daring to touch. His ears rang in panic.

"I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU, OK?!" she yelped out, hands flying off her eyes, and to her mouth, and he froze.

She deflated, averted her eyes.

His heart hammered against his ribcage, hands trembling but not from the frustration anymore.

"So, you see, I _need_ to go. For you and Saori's sake."

He swallowed, eyes wide. Now is your cue, Chiba. Now. _Now_.

They both stood there, wide-eyed, chests moving up and down with harsh, heavy breathing that puffed out of open mouths.

"I'm so sorry I kissed you, and I'm so sorry I made you drink in the first place, and cause this giant mess for you, and that's why I need to go," she whispered.

They were silent for a moment, tense and rigid and that harsh breathing, only inches apart and he had no idea when he'd moved closer only that he did, and he could smell her shampoo like this and—

 _Talk. Why aren't you_ talking _, Chiba._

His heart felt like it stopped with what she said to break the silence, eyes brimming with frustrated tears.

"You think _you_ kissed _me_?" he whispered. Wanted to slap himself. Of _all_ the things—

She reached up, finger out, intended to poke him with it no doubt, but when they landed, they curled into his shirt instead.

"I'm in fucking _love_ with you, and you're _forbidden,_ and you don't even fucking _BELIEVE_ in love, and this _fucking_ _torture_ here? I can't _DO_ this anymore. Why are you DOING this to me when you have—"

Something snapped in him, right through his brain. This was not how you do this, this was not how you should… you should talk, dimwit, tell her you're not forbidden, tell her she's wrong, tell her you love her too, tell her you were wrong, you should—

And yet, like magnetism, he pressed his lips to hers, at the same time that she yanked him to her by the shirt, and when she opened her mouth and touched his lips with her tongue, he opened his mouth for her with a gutteral, muffled sound – and it felt like coming home and like drowning all at once, and she whimpered, but then clawed her fingers into his shoulders and then his hands were in her hair, on her back, her butt, lifting—

He shuddered, trembling, at the way her teeth bit into his lip, her hand pulled at his hair, the gasps into his mouth, the way his vision swam and he could only ever drown in her lips and her scent and the feel of her skin beneath the pads of his fingers, as he brushed one hand into her cardigan and against the warm, naked skin at the small of her back where her T Shirt met her jeans, the other hand digging into her thigh, catching it in a strong grip, as she curled one leg around him. He cried out, deep and tortured and muffled by her mouth when she reached down and between them and ripped at the top button of his pants.

He didn't even notice he'd pressed her against the wall, not until his elbow hit her shelf, and she pressed her shoulders against it and her pelvis against him, and he cried out again into her mouth but didn't detach himself from it, and he bent his body forward, towards her mouth, towards…

She pushed at his shoulders, and he let her go with a pop of his lips, immediately, and she slid onto her feet and he stood with his shoulders shaking, trembling, he was wound so tight and almost blind from the rush he felt, a rush he'd never felt like this before…

And then her mouth was back, pressing, urgent against his, and he groaned into it, and her hands pushed at him and he backed up, slowly, until the back of his knees hit her bed, and he fell onto the white, bare sheets, and she on top of him, and this was heaven, heaven in her mouth, and his hand slid back under her shirt and her skin felt like silk and he needed to taste it so bad, he needed—

And then he tasted the salt on her lips and realized that her cheeks were wet, and he froze and let go of her immediately.

She launched herself off of him before he realized what had happened. Heard her cries of "We can't," and "Saori," before they could register in his brain and _no, not again_ , he needed to _explain_ , he needed to—

"Usako—" he cried.

She'd grabbed one of the boxes she'd been packing, threw her jacket and purse into the large IKEA bag next to it, and he propelled himself off her bed.

No. _No_ , he took it back, this can't…

"Please," he begged, following her out of the room. "Usako—"

"We _can't_ ," she whimpered. It sounded wet, trembling. It broke his heart.

She placed the box and bag outside, threw her shoes into it instead of putting them on.

His heart beat in his throat when she was out the door, whirled back with eyes that swam in tears.

"Don't you see how wrong this is?" she whispered, almost broken.

His eyes were wide, his throat closed up. What had he done?

She slammed the door shut in his face, and he heard her shuffle away behind it.

He stood there, wide-eyed, frozen, for a few moments longer.

Then the tears started falling.

"It's not…" he whispered.

His forehead hit the closed door, and a second time with more conviction, tears dropping onto his bare feet

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there's been some debate beforehand about this last scene of very questionable communication. But, then UGJ pointed out that this is still Mamoru Chiba. And she's totally right, this is the guy who is very shitty at communicating important things even AFTER he's been with Usagi for a while. Ya know, like having prophetic dreams about Usagi's death, or DYING FROM A SHADOW ON HIS LUNG. So, I stand behind this, lol, Chiba Mamoru (and especially THIS still emotionally inexperienced Chiba Mamoru here) would mess it up getting these words out, and impulsive Usagi is impulsive Usagi.
> 
> Anyway, lol. So next chapter is the last chapter. You don't have to suffer all too long in your frustration about these too idiots, then xD PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! I'm especially curious about what you have to say about the Kobayashi scene, for one! (And overall, and everything else too, of course, lol)


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go, guys. The last chapter. Please let me know what you think! (And thanks, as always, to my beta, Uglygreenjacket, who beta-ed this literally on her phone on her way home from a wedding so you could get this today!)
> 
> Ta-daaa:

 

Usagi pursed her lips, glaring at the screen, willing the number she was focusing on to magically change at her menacing gaze.

This apartment was perfect. Right in Juuban, top floor of a small apartment building two back streets away from the shopping streets, about 10 minutes walking distance from the metro station, 5 minutes away from the Pastry Garden. Light-flooded to allow for better vlogs, tiny kitchen that would never be used anyway, but a spacious one-room living space where she could both set up a bedroom corner and a living room corner. It even had a balcony with Tokyo Tower view, just like Mamoru's had!

If there just wasn't this number right next to it.

She glared at it a little harder.

To afford _that_ , and still be able to like, buy toilet paper, much less eat, she would need like… She scrunched up her face, thinking, counting. It took her awhile, but… about 10 frigging thousand more followers who regularly watched and did not click ads away. Twenty thousand more casual watchers, alternatively. And definitely some more sponsors…

She closed the tab with a sigh and opened her editing window. A clip of her own face was pulled up, one in which she practically buried herself in cremia ice cream. Ice cream _was_ the best cure for heartbreak, wasn't it? And it was a good vlog. A very good one, in fact. But she could see her eyes weren't in it quite as much in this clip, and it made editing it so much harder.

Usagi saved her process, when her phone screen lit up.

Her heartbeat spiked every time she checked the caller I.D.

Her shoulders slumped when she saw it wasn't him this time, both in relief and something else.

"Was he there again?" she asked into her phone.

Makoto's reply come tentatively. "Yeah, he was."

Usagi couldn't help it, she leaned forward and lowered her forehead onto the coffee table. "What did you say?" she mumbled into the wood.

"That you don't want to see him… He left another bouquet of flowers for you."

Usagi nodded sadly. And then she couldn't help the next thing either, she started sniffling.

"Oh, Usagi…" came Makoto's warm, friendly voice.

Usagi could hear the ruckus on the other end, could hear the noises of the Pastry Garden, knew Makoto was actually busy.

"I can pick up the rest of your stuff for you, you know?" Makoto said.

Usagi sniffled some more.

When she ended the phone call, a little later, there were blotches of tears and mascara on her mother's antique cherry wood coffee table, and she wiped at them with her sleeve, even when more tears streamed down her cheeks.

* * *

Usagi growled at her parents' washing machine, willing it to just please not kill her clothes this time.

Minako leaned against the open bathroom door, typing into her phone.

"This feels like old times, you know?" Minako mumbled, eyes on the screen.

"What does?" Usagi grumbled, pulling out a pink dress that used to be white and significantly bigger in size.

"This, you at your parents'? Feels just like high school. Your mother even made us cookies, did you see?" Minako said, overtly cheery.

It was the first time she could remember that the mention of cookies lowered her mood instead of lifting it.

"Yeah, I did…"

"Anyway, this friend I told you about two weeks ago? Who lets out his room? The one in Koenji?"

Usagi whirled her head around, eyes wide. It had been three weeks back at her parents now, and it had been three weeks too many.

"Yes?" she breathed, her ruined laundry forgotten.

"You can come check out the room on Wednesday," Minako said, holding up her phone, and the message, with a smile.

Usagi froze.

She should be shrieking. She should be happy. This was such good news, so much better than staying here. This was what she wanted…

Minako frowned at her, when no reaction came.

"You picked up your stuff yet?" Minako asked carefully.

Usagi exhaled, whirled back around and to her laundry. "No…" she murmured.

* * *

His apartment had never felt so lonely.

It used to be his sanctuary. Somewhere he did not like to let people into, so they would not disturb his carefully crafted and overtly comfortable solitude.

Now it felt like a graveyard of someone who had never known how happy a place it really could have been.

He scrubbed down the kitchen counter that really did not need scrubbing. All to avoid the living room where the closed and untouched door to her room was.

He did not dare enter it. He didn't want to see it, half empty and without her in it.

He exhaled and turned on the small kitchen radio. One of the things she had bought, pink and plastic, saying the kitchen needed a little more life.

The channel still set on it blasted the kitschiest kind of J-Pop. He didn't change it.

There was still some of her clutter on the fold-away kitchen table, that he didn't clean up –

Anything to not be so alone, to pretend she was still here.

He'd been on the verge to just yell it through Makoto's café. _I broke up with Saori._

But …

He didn't want it to sound like... 'I broke up with Saori _for you_. I broke her heart _for you_.'

He knew it was the last thing Usagi ever wanted.

He sighed, groaned into his hands, and then turned the awful, kitschy J-Pop even louder.

* * *

Usagi inhaled Makoto's heavenly 'sweet passion' cake with a pout. The soft sponge cake with the whipped cream and thick passion fruit glaze layers was, of course, to die for, as had the blueberry buttercream ombré cake with white chocolate been before it.

She pushed the button to turn off her phone screen absentmindedly, when it once again lit up.

"I can move in, in two weeks," Usagi answered Rei's question, who nodded around her coffee cup in satisfaction.

The apartment was definitely smaller than Mamoru's was, but the room was ok, if tiny, and yes, it was way farther out, but she would live.

She still wasn't happy about it, though.

"Well, Yuuto is gay, just if you haven't noticed," Minako cut in, and Usagi rolled her eyes. "You know, in case you wanted to make falling for your roommates a thing?"

"Ouch!" Minako called, appalled, when both Rei and Makoto slapped her thighs from both sides of her.

Usagi sent Minako a withering look, who lifted her shoulders in the 'just sayin' way, fork with cranberry pear and black sesame cream tart on it lifted with it.

Then she sighed back into her cake, ending in the biggest pout yet.

She sat with her back to the row of vases that Makoto had placed along the picture window and display. All of them bouquets of plump pink and red roses in varying states of decay, Usagi's name written on little envelopes that were tucked into a corner of the countertop, waiting.

"It's for the best, Usagi-chan…" Makoto said gently, pushing the big etagere of leftover pastry in the middle of the table a little closer to Usagi.

The lights were out in the front part of the café, the door locked, just them splurging on leftover cakes and pastry. The kind of evening she loved most in the world.

She pouted harder into her cake, wolfed it down. Her phone, once again, blinked up. She shut it off.

Rei's eyebrows lowered, scrunching together. "What's up with that?" she said, nodding to her phone.

From the look on Rei's face, Usagi knew she was assuming it was Mamoru, but Usagi shook her head, and then shrugged. "Comments. I've been getting a lot of them today, for some reason. One was actually pretty nasty."

Minako perked up. "You got your first flamer?" she asked, eyes growing wide.

So did Makoto's and Rei's. Makoto was the first to exclaim her sympathy, asking in a concerned voice what it said, and if she was ok.

"Something about me being too girly and annoying to make videos and how I should go bake for a man instead," Usagi murmured with a shrug. "In English! And I don't even bake! He probably just saw that one video – it was your macaron one? Don't know how he even found it if he's not into cute channels."

"I'm so sorry, Usagi-chan," Makoto cooed, but Minako whipped her phone out, blinking.

"And they keep coming? Today?" Minako asked.

Usagi frowned. "Yes. Why?"

Minako didn't react, but Usagi could hear the sound from Minako's phone, and her own voice speaking the few entrance lines of the macaron video to Ami-chan's subtitles.

Then Minako's eyes widened.

"Usagi-chan!" she called out, wide-eyed, looking up, held her phone up. "You're on YouTube Trends!"

Rei snatched the phone from Minako's hands. Usagi dropped the fork, forgot to swallow and Makoto had to hit her on the back, as she coughed around stray cake when she fumbled with her own phone, clicked on her app, into her settings, subscriptions…

She shrieked. Jumped out of her seat, shrieked again, at Minako this time, wide-eyed.

"You've gone viral, Usagi-chan!" Minako laughed, and Usagi started jumping, elated. Oh my _god_. _Oh my god, Oh—_

She felt arms around her, jumping with her. Hadn't even notice the tears on her blotchy face as she laughed, and refreshed her screen, again and again.

Her follower count was climbing, and climbing, and climbing.

_How— What?!_

It took Minako only about ten minutes to find out what had happened, while Makoto uncorked a bottle of bubbly wine, let it pop to whoops and cheers. Some famous American chef had twittered the video with star-eyed emojis and a comment about his ruptured cute glands and the goal to visit this place one day, as well as copying the recipe, and then some famous American pop star had retweeted. And then Ladurée Ginza had retweeted, since the place also starred in the macaron video, bringing the circle back home. Even her _favorite mangaka_ had retweeted!

Usagi had gained an unimaginable 16 000 followers in the past four hours since the original retweet.

Usagi screamed at her phone in shocked wonderment, over and over. Makoto freaked out right with her. For her, of course, but also because with Usagi, her own café had gone viral, too.

The rest of the evening was spent in celebration, with Usagi obsessing about which vlog she should post next, to keep the hype up, Makoto musing if she should stay up, prepare a bigger batch of the macarons in question just in case, and so by the time Ami finally arrived, confused and amusedly overwhelmed, they'd moved the celebration into the kitchen, drinking from the open champagne bottle, laughing, turning on the music on Makoto's little kitchen radio and Minako danced to it in a way that made them all giggle, while Mako-chan baked Luna macarons.

The next time Usagi checked her phone her follower count had risen an unfathomable 6 300 followers more.

Forget Koenji. She could rent that flat in Juuban on her own now.

It was the first thought that evening that managed to sober her up and the smile to falter.

* * *

"Usagi-chan!"

Usagi blinked, looking up from her phone that was undeniably glued to her hand since the previous night, unable to place the voice that had called to her across the street or from _somewhere_ , and she turned, looking around, searching.

Juuban-dori was busy, filled with people, and the afternoon had already bid the sun goodbye, leaving the streets illuminated by decorative string lights and the glow of the shops.

Her heart beat rose. Was it someone who recognized her from her video? Because _that had happened earlier today_ , for the _first time in her life_ , and it had been _awesome_.

A man with an easy smile stopped in front of her.

She blinked when she recognized him, embarrassed it had taken her a moment, but she had, after all, only seen him once, and now it was dark, and he was bundled up in a thick woolen hat and scarf.

"Kobayashi," Usagi said.

Her throat ran dry, all of a sudden. All the elation of the past 24 hours making way for the tightening feeling in her gut, the very physical reminder that no, her heart wasn't magically mended now.

They chatted a bit. Inconsequential small talk. They didn't address the elephant in the room.

Did Kobayashi even know she had moved out?

Her hands trembled all the way through. He knew Mamoru. He knew _Saori_. She really, really didn't want to hear about what the two were up to, really didn't want to think about it. Shouldn't let on that anything was even out of the ordinary for both Mamoru's and Saori's case, and yet…

"Say 'Hi' to Mamoru and Saori for me, will you?" she found her voice saying, before she could stop it.

Then she clapped her hands in front of her mouth. Shook her head.

Kobayashi threw her a curious look and froze.

"No," she said, and shook her head wildly. "Don't do that. I take it back."

Kobayashi frowned at her, his gaze lingering, all confusion and cocked head.

"Um, Usagi-chan," he said, and Usagi braced herself.

 _Lie, lie, lie. For their sake._ _Please._ She screamed at her mind.

"I _think_ there is something you ought to know…" Kobayashi started in a careful tone.

* * *

Usagi could see the minute Saori opened her door that Usagi was the last person she expected to see, and maybe also the last person she wanted to see.

Yet still, for some reason unknown to Usagi, Saori sighed and opened her door wide.

And this was how Usagi found herself kneeling on the soft tatami mats in Saori's narrow living room, a cup and saucer of the finest bone china filled with herbal tea placed in front of her on the spotless cherry wood coffee table, facing the sliding doors of a single bedroom that was sparsely but impeccably decorated.

It looked a little like Mamoru's apartment, just a touch more feminine, but the same kind of modern minimalism.

Saori sat opposite of her, and with a hand gesture had urged her to start talking.

It all bubbled out of Usagi. Six weeks of denial and six weeks of longing and looking for apartments, never ever thinking about acting on it. Then Haruto and the realization that she could not move on without hurting anyone in the process, and this feeling as a backdrop to their disastrous double date, and everything that happened after.

Saori had simply nodded and listened rather stone-faced, nodded and looked into her coffee cup as Usagi talked it all out.

When she talked on… when it came to that first kiss and her running away, Saori stopped her.

"Why are you here, Usagi-chan?" Saori said.

Usagi was surprised to still hear the endearing suffix, and looked up from her cup. Saori's face was rather hard.

Usagi swallowed, frowned into her cup. "Um…"

"Are you here to get my blessing to pursue him? Because…" Saori said, and Usagi's eyes widened.

"No! No! That's not why…"

"Why, then?" Saori asked.

Her back was straight, her knees together, her jaw was set but her eyes weren't hard, and Usagi could not for the life of her understand why Mamoru would choose against this woman.

"I…" Usagi started, wide-eyed. "I wanted to…" she swallowed "…apologize, I guess."

Saori looked at her but said nothing for a moment.

Usagi's hands started trembling around the small cup, but she kept Saori's gaze.

"Go on, then," Saori said.

Usagi's lip trembled, and she flinched when she nearly dropped the cup in her haste to put it back on its saucer, and then scooted back a little from the table to bow down low, across her folded knees, hands on the tatami mat, and apologized.

"I'm _so_ sorry, I…" she said.

Saori clicked her tongue, frowning, and grabbed her arm. "No," she said, and urged Usagi to get up.

Usagi blinked, confused, but complied, sitting up.

"I'm sorry, I…" Usagi said again, but it was confused now, the meaning had shifted.

Saori shook her head. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made you do that…" she frowned. "It's not actually _your_ apology I want," she said. Her tone was soft now. Vulnerable.

Usagi frowned.

Saori shrugged, wrinkled her nose. "It did feel nice, though. I'm not going to lie."

Usagi blinked, her hands already back on the tatami mat to repeat the action, but Saori's hand on her sleeve stopped her again.

"No," she said.

Then she straightened up with a heavy sigh and picked up her coffee cup. Almost just to have something to hold on to, and Usagi understood.

Usagi also understood, when Saori started to talk, that this was going to be the reverse of the previous. That is was time to listen, not to talk.

"He did apologize, of course. A lot," Saori said. "But at the moment I don't think it will ever be enough."

Usagi nodded, mutely.

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't mad at him. I'm fucking furious," she said, and Usagi's eyes widened briefly. Saori didn't feel like someone who cursed. And she was pretty sure it was a very rare occurrence.

"And jealous. And all these ugly feelings. But… I'm perhaps more furious that he didn't get this like, 9 years ago. Even 5."

Usagi picked up her own cup. The tea in it had long turned cold.

"And of course, I'm wondering… these past months, when he had sex with me… was he thinking about you? He's been so much more…" she shook her head, apologetically. "You don't need to hear that."

Usagi's voice croaked when she reacted, eyes in her cup and voice small. "I think I do…"

She felt Saori's eyes on her in the brief pause that followed, before Saori's soft voice once again filled the room.

"Well, let's just say… I think I received some passion that was directed at you, and not me," Saori said, and this time, Usagi met her eyes.

Usagi's heart was beating against her chest, it was so wrong to react to that, and yet she did.

Saori exhaled and pressed her lips together briefly before she went on. "And the problem is, it gave me hope, and it gave me a reason to deny some doubts I did have, things I did see but brushed off as me being too paranoid, too in the job?"

Then she shrugged with a little wrinkle in her brow, and went on "And maybe I even overcompensated. The way I threw myself into being as nice and welcoming to you as possible?" she said.

Usagi's voice was small when she reacted. "You were really, really nice… You are… really, really nice…"

Saori nodded, then shrugged. "I was trying to be open. And trusting. And kind."

"You are…"

"Maybe it was my weapon? If I was kind to you, maybe you would not be unkind to me, or my relationship," Saori said, her hand swirling the cold coffee in her cup around and around.

Usagi couldn't help the burning feeling behind her eyes, the drop of moisture that pricket at them. "I'm so sorry…" she managed to get out, but Saori shook her head, brushing her off.

"I'd forgotten things like this don't have anything to do with kindness. They happen either way, I guess," Saori all but whispered.

Usagi's throat constricted. She'd never meant for…

Saori shook her head, and her voice was stronger when she talked again. "Can I ask you… that photo, in the genkan? Who put it up?"

Usagi blinked, surprised at the change of topic. "Um…" she started, voice hoarse, and she frowned in her recollection… "I made it. For the door. As a name tag, really. He took it off and put it somewhere else…"

Saori nodded thoughtfully.

She put her cup back on the saucer but not her hands away from the cup, and then she sighed once more before she spoke. "I should have… there were so many signs. The nicknames, the photo in the genkan… Mamoru doesn't DO photos. Much less keep them around as mementos… it should have been such a giant, screeching alarm in my head, and maybe it was, but…"

She sighed again, deeply and in a way that ended almost in a pout, but not really. Saori was too composed for that.

"But I trusted him," she said. "Mamoru is a very trustworthy man…"

Saori huffed at the end, dry and sad, but somehow, still with conviction.

"I wasn't surprised when Mamoru came to break off the engagement that morning. But I didn't really allow myself to understand until the night we went out with Kobayashi-kun. It was… very hard for me, to say the least," Saori murmured into her tea.

Usagi's fists clenched into her skirt.

"Afterwards?" Saori said, looking at Usagi this time. "When we parted, after the dinner?"

Usagi nodded mutely.

"I talked about you with Kobayashi, when I walked him to the train station. I… was very hurt that night, hanging on to a thread, and I asked Kobayashi what he thought of you. And then I asked him what he thought Mamoru thought of you, even when I already had an inkling of what it was."

Usagi swallowed. Her voice was still thick. "What did he say?" she asked.

Saori gave her a sad smile and lifted one shoulder. "That you're cute and charming and the 'little sister type'," she said, making air quotes with her hands, and then her face turned somber when she continued. "And that if I'm worried I should remember that I'm perfect, the most perfect woman he could think of… and that any man would be lucky to have me, and Mamoru should count his blessings, and that he was sure Mamoru did…"

"I agree…" Usagi whispered.

Saori smiled that sad smile and shrugged sadly. "It gave me this tug in my heart. Mamoru has always said nice, complimentary things to me… But the way Kobayashi said it in that moment, the way he looked at me and not only _said_ 'perfect,' but it felt so honest and self-explanatory, and as if he truly _felt_ it… I felt like nobody had ever looked at me this way before."

Usagi's stomach fell for her, and she saw how Saori blinked too much, frowned too hard, bit her lip, like she was trying not to cry, or swallow a lump in her throat.

"I've been in a relationship for ten years, and my fiancé has never looked at me the way this man did when he was trying to reassure me that my fiancé does indeed think about me this way…" she said, quietly.

Usagi exhaled slowly. It came shaky.

Saori's eyes lifted back up and met hers, and Usagi felt it burning inside of her.

"So, in a way," Saori said slowly. "I'm not an innocent party in this either… I should have seen it sooner…"

Usagi's eyes widened. "No, don't say that!"

"I am, though," Saori said. "And I think it's important for me to see that." Saori sighed deeply.

"Did Mamoru ever tell you how we met?"

Usagi wet her lips unconsciously. "Not… with many words," she said uncomfortably.

Saori snorted at this. "Yes. That sounds about right. Of course," she said, and turned her eyes upwards, then blinked for a moment, before she talked.

"When he came to… break up?" she said, and Usagi flinched. "He asked me if I'd ever had 'butterflies' – went into this whole long monologue about romantic love and comfortable love and this thrill of meeting someone, or absolutely needing to kiss someone and asked me if I ever had that with him. He was so sure I hadn't had that with him 'either'…" Saori trailed off, with a deep sigh, and another shrug.

"I had. Of course, I had. I'd practically _stalked_ Mamoru for over a year in high school, hung out with him so much, read the same books he did, so I could discuss them with him. I put in so much work to be near him, even dropped out of my debating club just so that I would have the same time slots free with him to hang out at the library…" Her voice was quick now, and she was back to talking into her coffee cup.

"He was the perfect guy. A little aloof as he kept to himself, but we had so many shared interests, and he was so…" she broke off and exhaled heavily. "I was so, so, so in love. And so ecstatic when after this step by step progression, he started saying things along the lines of that he was so comfortable with me, and how it was so easy to be around me, and started asking me on dates, and one day, wondered aloud if this was somewhat of a relationship, and I agreed…"

Saori swallowed. "For me it had been a dream come true! But… not for him."

She shrugged her shoulder and found Usagi's eyes. It hurt every time she did that.

"Of course, I'd known it wasn't love at first sight for him, that I was more of an acquired taste for him, and it had been so much work for me after all, for so long… but… To think that he _never_ had that thrill with me, so much that he questioned it for me, too? Didn't believe it _existed_?"

Usagi cringed.

"I'd worked SO hard for us to get together! For him to notice me. And then he did. It was slow, so slow, but then… I was the happiest person in the world!"

Saori's voice had raised a little, and so had her shoulders, but now they slumped, just that tiny little bit, and her voice was small when she continued speaking.

"I believe him when he says he didn't realize. That I was the most important person in his world for ten years and he loved me, that he grew to love me and depend on me. That he just didn't know there was more to feel than that, and before you, there was never anyone but me he'd felt more for. I believe him. And yet… I can't help but feel these past ten years have been a lie?"

Usagi felt like choking, she could only stare at Saori and try not to cry.

"Maybe also one big lie that I wanted to tell myself," Saori said, not looking at Usagi. "I gave him space, and never pushed, never demanded. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe that that's just 'how he is,' and I should be ok with that and not expect anything he's not capable of giving or feeling…" She sighed, then moved her eyes to Usagi's. They looked so sad. "But it turns out he was… just not with me."

Usagi couldn't help it. The tears bubbled over and she curled back forward across her thighs. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," Usagi cried. "I'm so sorry I did this to you. That he did this to you… I can't express…"

Saori pursed her lips. Sighed. "At least he did this to me now and did not wait another ten years?"

Usagi sobered, but the tears remained on her cheeks. She couldn't fall apart here, it wasn't fair…

"Are you… are you with him now?" Saori asked.

Usagi shook her head. "I moved out, when…"

Saori nodded. Sighed again.

"He's tried to talk to me… but I…" Usagi whispered, hoarsely, wetly.

Saori pursed her lips. "You should talk. If I've learned one thing out of this, it's that you should talk…"

* * *

Usagi clutched at the envelopes as she made her way out of the elevator. She pulled her shoulders back, inhaled deeply.

She had expected that the ignored envelopes that had waited in Makoto's café for her, tucked into the flowers, were cards. Maybe even letters. But there was not a single word in them. Instead, there was confetti. All of them, every single one, was filled with confetti.

Her hands shook, when she pushed her key into the lock. They still shook, crinkling the paper of the envelopes, when she pushed open the door, looked down at her feet as she started to kick off her boots in the genkan, stepping onto the heel of her shoes one after the other to slip out of them.

Her stomach had tumbled somewhere into her toes when she'd heard the sudden, hectic padding on the hardwood floor, and his feet appeared in her line of view, directly in front of her, accompanied by harsh, shocked breathing.

His eyes looked so full of fear, when hers finally travelled up to meet his.

He opened his mouth, closed it again.

His eyes flew to her hand, when the paper crinkled under her too tight grasp of them, and his eyes widened just that little bit.

A hand flew into his hair, immediately.

"Confetti?" she asked.

He shrugged helplessly. His voice was hoarse, when he spoke. "It's just… I bought colored paper and used a puncher. I didn't know where one _buys_ confetti… But you said… And I…"

He swallowed, looked back to the floor, broke off.

"You wanted to talk," Usagi whispered to his feet. "At least you used to?"

He took a second before answering. "Yes," he whispered back.

She pressed her lips together, bit at her lower lip almost painfully.

"Can I come in?" she asked.

His eyes flew to hers, and he practically jumped out of her way, mumbling a rather high-pitched, stricken, "of course!"

She nodded, and bunny-socked feet stepped onto the hardwood.

She didn't know why she'd expected anything to look different when she walked into the apartment, passed the kitchen, into the living room, and to the entrance of her room.

Only three and a half weeks had passed. Of course, there wasn't anything different, and yet…

Her room looked strange. Half packed boxes in it, the sheets still crumpled where they'd fallen on them that night.

She brushed her teeth against her lower lip and padded inside. Touched a frame in one of the boxes briefly.

Mamoru had followed her, but stopped in the doorframe, once she'd walked inside her room, almost hovering, as she let herself fall onto her bed, sat down on it with a high metallic squeak of the bedframe as she bounced up and down on the mattress from the impact.

His voice was hushed, scratchy, when he broke the silence. "Did you come to… collect the rest of your belongings?"

His back was slightly hunched, his hands were stuffed deep into the pockets of his tight, black jeans, hair falling into his eyes.

He looked so pretty, so absolutely beautiful, and so very sad.

She exhaled, didn't answer, but met his eyes.

He took an erratic step inside, then. One, two more and he was in front of her, raking long, sinewy fingers she remembered all too well through his hair.

"Can you… not?" he asked.

She swallowed, opened her mouth too talk, but for once, the roles were reversed, and he interrupted her, started talking.

"I don't even… I know I messed this all up, but it doesn't even have to be…" he exhaled frustratedly. His nostrils flared, his eyes rolled to the ceiling, groaning, fist back in his hair, before his eyes were back on her.

"What I'm saying is, I can control myself, you know? I promise, I can. And you don't need to… move out," he said.

"Mamo-chan…" Usagi said. She tried to say it as softly as she could, and his eyes flashed again at her use of that nickname.

Why had she never noticed that before?

Then he shook his head, groaning harder, and his eyes, fiercer now, were back on her.

"No," he said, interrupting her once more, "what I _really_ meant to say is…" he faltered again, took a step closer, scrunched his eyes shut.

The words really seemed to come hard, but this time, Usagi waited.

"What I mean to say is," he said, hair moving across his forehead with his movements, "You… Even though you're _tiny_ you manage to occupy ALL the space at ONCE."

She blinked. "What?" But he went right on.

He'd taken a step closer now, and lowered himself, slowly, oh so slowly, in front of her. As if she was a wild animal he was approaching, and he was afraid she'd run again, and he licked his lips between sentences.

"And I _friggin can't eat chocolate anymore_ without you appearing out of thin air next to me and opening wide, and you chew my pencils, and you never clean out the fridge when it's your turn, and…"

_Wait, what?_

But still his hands were restless, nervous, clenching and unclenching, flying into his hair and out of it.

"And you leave your towels _all over the bathroom floor_ , and I just…"

His eyes met hers then, and she felt it in her gut.

"I want to have that back. Please," he swallowed. "Can I have that back?"

She felt his words as if he'd written them into the skin of her chest.

There was a beat of silence between them. She must have looked pretty thrown, eyes wide, the way she just stared at him for a second.

He got up, his hand flying to the back of his neck, when she didn't immediately answer. Almost… embarrassed.

"Why…" Usagi started, her voice little more than a nervous whisper, and he turned to her. "Why did you break up with Saori?"

The shock was written on his face, immediately. He was petrified, paling. He opened his mouth, but no words came immediately.

It looked so hard for him, so hard to get the words out, and yet, he finally did.

"Because I fell in love with you the moment you first stepped through that door," he whispered.

She shook her head. Got up. "No," she said, and brushed past him.

His eyes looked panicked, and he only calmed when he saw she wasn't running this time, she had just walked out the room, started pacing the living room.

"… I don't think I can believe that," she said, crossing her arms over her chest protectively, socks burrowing into the soft rug.

"Why?" he breathed, on her heels.

She threw her hands into the air, looked at him exasperated. "Because it's been three months, and we've been on frigging double dates together, and you sat _here,_ " she pointed to the ugly green rug beneath her, "and we ate fondue, and you told me you loved her, and got really mad about it and—"

"It's ONLY been three months, Usako, I've been…"

"You had sex in the next room!" she shouted, pointing down the hall.

"So did you!" he yelped back.

" _No_ , I didn't?!" she threw back, her look appalled, irritated.

His look was flustered, his own hands up in the air. "You were going to!"

"To get over you!" she exclaimed, brow furrowing. "And are you REALLY turning this on me, now?!"

He deflated, immediately, and his eyes turned this rather abashed shade of reprimand.

She crossed her arms again, pursed her lips. "Well… if you claim to feel the same, you'll know what that felt like."

His eyes whipped to hers, wide and full of remorse.

"I…" he started. "... I didn't... know I was even in the position to be capable of hurting you. I was trying to be loyal to my choices…"

He exhaled, hard, continued. "I was trying to prove to myself I didn't have these feelings. It didn't work."

She glared at him, laced her arms tighter together. "I wore all these fancy clothes and you never reacted. I was in a towel and you didn't react. YOU were in a towel and you didn't react!" she threw at him.

This time he looked at her bewildered. All the 'excuse me?!' and 'are you for real?!' written in his eyes. "Of course, I did react?! What are you even talking about?!"

"No, you didn't!" she said with a pout that must have looked quite petty, and quite enraged.

"What are you even—" he said, hands back in the air, frown set in place. Then he shook his head, almost annoyed. Brushed it off.

"Look, I'm not proud of this, ok?" he said. "The long showers? Because of _you_. And… _I'd_ been wearing just a towel for _weeks_ and prolonging changing for longer and longer. I didn't _plan_ it, exactly, more like… Anyway. It's not that I didn't react. I was _prepared_."

She shook her head, almost in a shudder, surprised, taken aback "... you _planned_ that?"

"No! Of course not, no, more like… I risked it?" Then he shook his head, dismissing his own sentence. "Not really... I didn't—"

"WHAT THE FUCK, MAMO-CHAN, YOU WERE ENGAGED!" she cried.

"I KNOW, I'M DESPICABLE!" he yelled right back with a helpless shrug, hands up.

Usagi groaned, pressing her palms against forehead at an angle. Why couldn't they just… Both her shoulders and her irritation fell, and so did the tone of her voice.

"You were with Saori for 10 years..." she said softly. "How can you ... throw that away..."

He didn't speak until she looked up at him again. But when she did, he'd closed the gap between them and was right in front of her.

"I'm in love," he said.

Usagi frowned.

This time, when she turned away, pressed her hands back against her eyes and groaned, she swore, he was looking almost exasperated.

" _Ten_ _years_!" she exclaimed, voice muffled. " _Ten years_ , and then _I_ come in and _ruin_ it for you?!How can that even _begin_ to measure—"

She felt his hand on her shoulder, just a second, just until he retracted it again as if he'd remembered he wasn't allowed to touch.

"Look," he started.

She knew it wasn't meant literally, but yet she did, and lowered her hands, and once again found his eyes.

He let himself fall onto the couch behind him with a bounce not unlike she had done on her bed before him, and ran his hands through his hair.

It also looked adorable standing over him, when he did that, not just under him…

"I…" He tried again. "You asked me, that night, why I'd lied to Saori? Why I'd told her it had been months planned for you to move in? I didn't answer you."

She bit her lip, nodded.

He exhaled, leaned forward a little, and clasped his hands between his knees, eyes on them.

He nodded, before he spoke. "She had wanted to move in. And I'd told myself I had cold feet. Nagged Motoki so long until he helped me… But really… I think…"

And then he shook his head and looked up at her.

Why did it make her heart jump every time he did that? Find her eyes?

"Do you remember what you said about your ex?" he asked. "That you left him because it didn't grow for you? That you knew there was something missing, something more?"

She swallowed.

"I think that's what it was. But I didn't… I didn't…" he huffed, shook his head a little with that tiny widening of his eyes, the way he did when he was absolutely annoyed with himself – a look she was beginning to see on him regularly.

"And it was right here, then. The missing part. It moved in with you, and I didn't…"

She bit her lip.

He sighed, back into his hands, looking for the world to see as if words were the hardest thing in the world.

And then he locked his jaw, got up and brushed by her in one single motion and stalked over to his glass cabinet. He opened the door, picked something small and red out of it and set it on the coffee table in front of her with a little wooden thud.

She blinked, when she recognized what it was.

It was his Daruma. It had two eyes.

His unfulfilled goal. It was…

"You filled it in," she whispered. Dumbly, needlessly.

"I did, yes."

"What was it?" she breathed, focusing on its little, stern, two-eyed, painted face.

Hand back in his hair, and he almost seemed as if he was pulling it this time.

"I… I've been searching all my life for something I can't even remember?" he said, finally. "I used to question everything. Anything. Am I this Chiba Mamoru? I felt rootless, broken. Like something important was missing."

They stood opposite each other now, the coffee table between them. Usagi looked at the Daruma, not him, but she felt her throat constrict, was reminded of her kids at her voluntary job.

His voice had become a little coated. A little guarded. "As a teenager, I roamed around, looking, searching. I stopped at one point. But I always felt like something was missing."

He paused, only continued when she looked up once more.

He shrugged. "My unachieved goal was to experience a moment that felt like nothing was missing. And I did."

She felt her heart jumpstart in her chest, hammering against her ribs. Her mind screamed at her to demand what moment it was, when it was, if it was…

She swallowed it down.

"I don't even know if..." she whispered.

He'd taken a step closer, bumped his shin against the table, and it broke the moment.

He shook his head, went around, but she'd turned, started pacing again, bringing distance between them.

She started talking either way, started gesticulating with her hands, throwing him a glance here and there.

"I… I fell in love with this guy who was too stubborn to enjoy choux cream, and then he did," she said, and suddenly he stood rigid still, only his blue, blue eyes following her.

"And the guy who ironed my _socks_ and folded them, and who threw all his plans away to help me help myself with my cruel taxes." She laced her arms together, shrugged awkwardly. "You know, that guy who was so supportive and lovely and nice, who sometimes ate dinner with me on the balcony, and cooked for me a lot, who told me things about his life, and…"

She sighed, trailed off. She stilled in her step and threw him a look. "And then there was this other guy," she said.

He frowned, took a step closer.

"The douche that I met the day I moved in. The cold guy who sometimes would just run off in the middle of a conversation, who ignored me and got snappy and wouldn't even look at me sometimes. Who didn't talk about emotions, who says he doesn't even believe in love…"

He went to speak, to interrupt, but she held up her hand. He closed his mouth.

"I don't know if..." she said. "I don't know who of these two is the real Chiba Mamoru. But I want the first one. I just ... I don't even know if he exists, or if he was an act."

Mamoru swallowed, ran his teeth along his lower lip and exhaled through an open mouth and wide eyes.

"Let me prove to you the other one was the act. Please," he whispered.

He took a step towards her.

It closed the gap, once more, and this time she reached out, curled her fingers into his button down, hung on to it, and he, in turn, wrapped his hands around her wrists, holding on to her.

She could feel how hard his hands were trembling. How hard all of him was trembling.

"I'm..." she started, voice croaking.

She frowned into his shirt. "I'm... still gonna look for an apartment, ok?" she said, and felt something give in his chest, like something was plummeting.

But then she talked on, and his grip was suddenly stronger on her arms. "I'm still gonna... if I come back, we'll be roommates, ok? I'll pay my rent...My room, your room, until I find my own place, and we'll get to know each other, no secret feels this time, and maybe... "

She could feel his heartbeat, even through the shirt. Hard and fast and frantic.

"Fresh start," she finished.

"Yes, yes," he breathed. "Ok."

"No expectations," she said.

"None. Only hopes," he answered.

She looked up, threw him a look.

He swallowed, but shrugged. "No secret feels, you said."

She pursed her lips, nodded. "Ok…"

And then, suddenly, he extracted his hands from her arms and instead held out his hand, expectantly.

She frowned at it, confused.

But he kept sticking it out.

She blinked at him, let go of his shirt, and when she took his hand – the skin so soft, so warm, so tingling against hers, as it wrapped around hers so gently – he shook it.

"Hello. I'm Chiba Mamoru. ... Will you please move in?" he whispered.

She laughed, she couldn't help it. It was a wet laugh, more between half a cry and a laugh, and she put her free hand against her mouth to catch it.

He didn't let go of her hand.

"Before you do, I'll need to warn you," he continued. "Because I'm a complete idiot."

"Oh?" she said, raising both eyebrows.

He nodded, one corner of his lips lifting up in that half smile, the one that had been her doom, the one that had led to that kiss.

"Yes," he said. "Because I let this woman move in with me a while back, and she's cluttery, and she makes my stuff stick together, she's so loud the neighbors are starting to indent my door, and she makes me do stuff I'm not usually comfortable with,"

Usagi laughed again, more of that kind that wasn't sure if it wanted to be sad or joyous.

He took a breath, and his eyes turned serious, and his thumb brushed across her palm.

"…And it was at the same time the worst and best decision of my life. And it was fucking butterflies and fairy tale the minute I first saw her, and like I can't breathe unless I'm breathing into her mouth, and I go absolutely crazy when she's around, and she makes me feels things I've never felt, and that make be a fucking moron, and I'm sorry, and I've been too fucking proud and ignorant to see it, and please. Will you please be my roommate?"

Another of these laughs, and then it _did_ turn into a sob, and she slipped her hand from his and pressed it, too, against her mouth, and his eyes turned wide again and full of fear.

She had to take a calming breath before she spoke.

"Wanna go on a ferris wheel ride with me?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered, eyes terrified.

Then he frowned. " _Now_?"

It made her giggle through the tears, and she nodded.

"And help me get my stuff back here, afterwards?"

This time, she didn't even need to feel the shudder to know his body had felt that.

"Yes," he breathed. "Yes, please."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it. The last chapter. I know some of you hate my open endings, but, ah well ; ) There WILL be an epilogue though, so stick around, yeah?
> 
> ALSO, SEE WHY THIS COULDN'T WORK OUT DIRECTLY, SAORI HAD TO TALK TO USAGI FIRST, YA KNOW? XD
> 
> Anyway, so many of you have encouraged me along the way of this ride, so I want to thank everyone in name who has reviewed for me while this party was going strong.
> 
> Kasienda, Uglygreenjacket, Mianngu, Sarabiaja, Tina Century, DarkendedHrt101, Antigone2, Pia Bartolini, Lin Argabash, sergeant_angel, Bky, MyIndy13, wishwars, Hobbs87, Adrianna Sharp, Nebelflecke, Sailorvsredmask, haruka-usagi-forever, ThatRebelKid, StoryUnfolding, Moon Bunny, momo211, bepears, sun-and-stars, slightlyxjaded, dayfreshie, Deadly Aura, Moonlight Usagi-Chan, Rei0ki, Smokingbomber, irritablevowel, tryntee13, Sessediz, CassieRaven, Queen Risa, isacore, ncisduckie, jennagrins, annabelleg, HermioneGrangerTwin, ChloeNicole1912, jaondm, mishkaroonie, sparksofarevolution, Roxypockets1, Ninjette Twitch, Sugar Moon Fairy, pinkbagsofmiscellany, karinori, Dandy Mandy, moonwrite, Syulai, NikkiBC, angeljme, LadyMakoto5, Saiaino23, mryann, OrientalDanceGirl, Celestrial Cat, Tori-Lee Keene, Nissaw, TropicalRemix, Moonie, LadyRiver9, Krys7, Sesshy's Mistress, snazzyflower, Odd Eyed, Aya Faulkner, Sie, SaturnFoxx, C.R. Carlyle, phillynz, , usagi-serenity, Oloferne, HyenaYu, DixonLover87, Lady Aya, jessicanicoleharp, xo, Silver Milinium Uhura, Kissesncake, Buffy fan, judeohchop, Corall, Red Lion Amaryllis, Madame Sadako, Thatycarter, Duquesofmoon, BrandiDoo, mariacristina86, Undomiel de Vil, J, Mercedes1312, Bi Queen's Posts, ShAnTaLy, lashun316, Jen, Shamika James, Saturnkitty, questions, Guardians314, Beej88, James Birdsong, Ebony10, Ravenclaw Slytherin, ladyhawk89, BrownB, malina16, Luna Neko, chaosandcosmos, megmarie92, mintiswirl, Dee, HopeInTheDarkness, anfel081280, Amber, and all you guest reviewers, you are all so appreciated!
> 
> Some of you have been supporting me for a long while, and I get so happy every time I see your names in the inbox, and others have reviewed for me for the first time, and it makes me so happy to see people come into this message box who haven't before, too! So, welcome, guys, and stick around, please, and go explore the review boxes of the other authors currently active in the usamamo fandom – as well as those who aren't, because, who knows, they might come back with some calling ; )
> 
> So, my next multichapter will be a little while coming (real life is calling, especially my thesis), but I've got a few smaller ones planned. Either way, you can always come find me on tumblr under the same name, if you haven't already.
> 
> Last, there is a special group of people I want to thank separately: And it's everyone who has come and talked to me about real life experiences and circumstances similar to the one in my story, and shared their hurt and their emotions and their memories with me, and it made this story so much more important, and so much richer for me. You know who you are, guys, I don't want to call you out in case you would rather not, but please know how much it meant to me to hear these stories from you, and I've kept them in the back of my head all throughout writing this!
> 
> And then there are those who have lent me their ears and their time and their thoughts as I've developed this thing: TinaCentury, Irritablevowel, Antigone2, and of course, most of all, the woman whom I steal a LOT of time; Uglygreenjacket. Thank you so, so much, guys.
> 
> Anyway, guys, I hope you liked this ride, and please let me know what you thought of the last chapter! (Or of this fic, if you're reading this, like, way later, or haven't talked to me before!) I'll see you with the epilogue!


	15. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go, guys. It's been two weeks, so that the two years later that I'm presenting to you now feel at least slightly appropriately accurate ;)
> 
> Thank you so much, to everyone who read, and especially those who reviewed, for sticking around! It has been a joy to write for you!
> 
> And thank you, especially, always always always, to my beta Uglygreenjacket, who sticks with me through all my stories, and still cheers me on. Thank you so much, love!
> 
> And thank you, also, to my husband. He reads all my fics, and helps me brainstorm, and this epilogue was his idea, and he's so proud of me for writing, and I met him 8 years ago today.

 

* * *

Epilogue

* * *

Mamoru pushed the oven door shut with his hip and adjusted the temperature slightly before he turned the faucet, clogged the drain and proceeded to place his used bowls and spatula into the sink, detached the steel beaters from his electric mixer, and pushed the lever of the plastic dish soap bottle two, three, four times to get started.

Of course, he had a dishwasher. But there was something relaxing to him that came with the rush of the running water, the foam and the assurance that he stood by the oven should his sponge cheesecake suddenly decide to inflate, or his kitchen go up in flames. Plus, to him, it was a singularly meditative task, the way it brought his mind to a wind down and kept it focused by the rhythmic clicking of his magnetic kitchen timer against the side of the fridge and the low thrum of the oven at work, while his hands had something to do. He enjoyed it.

But then he was done, and the kitchen was clean, but the cake wasn't done. And since it was a trickier kind of recipe that he'd needed Makoto's expertise on before, he'd loathed to leave it alone, and so he opened his kitchen cabinets for some long-awaited de-cluttering just to excuse his prolonged fixation on the illuminated oven-door.

His eyes singled out the toaster immediately.

Pastel-colored, embellished by a greater-than sign, less-than sign and periods forming a stylistic face that was supposed to look adorable on a toaster in form of a uniquely Japanese emoji, and it was never ever used.

It had to go.

Of course, the moment he'd made it out of the kitchen with the metallic box in hand was the moment the lock finally turned and Usagi came poltering into the apartment. He couldn't help the way his lips twitched.

"I'M SO SORRY, I'M SO LATE, I DIDN'T— What are you doing?"

Mamoru froze, clutching the toaster to his chest with both hands in flagrante delicto.

"Two years, Usako. We agreed to throw it out _almost two years_ ago," he defended himself.

Usagi's look was absolutely appalled, and, dropping her bags unceremoniously, she ripped it out of Mamoru's hands and clutched it protectively against her chest.

"I won a bet on it. Remember, the goldfish? I'm allowed to throw this out," Mamoru reasoned.

"That never happened," she growled.

"Uh huh."

"Besides, that was, like, one and a half years ago, not two," she said in a glare.

"Aha," he said. "So, you admit it happened."

"No, it didn't happen!" she cried, furious.

He rolled his eyes.

"It has a name," Usagi grumbled, stroking the metal as one would a kitten.

Mamoru snorted, eyebrows raised incredulously, and looked at her as if she'd declared she now loved advanced integral calculus.

"It has a name, which means it has feelings!" she said, and Mamoru swore he saw her leg twitch, but she caught herself just before she stomped it.

Mamoru shook his head, rolling his eyes in a way that made her narrow hers. "You _gave_ it a name. It's a machine!"

"So, what!"

"It's an object!" he said, pronouncing every word extra carefully.

"So, poor Mimi needs to suffer, because you don't have a heart?" Her eyes were still narrow, hand stroking colored metal of the endangered toaster.

A frustrated huff escaped his nostrils.

"It's the prettiest thing you own!" she cried, hugging it tighter.

"Because it was a present! And now I don't need it, and we don't have the space," he said slowly.

"Of course, we have the space!" she yelped, all accusation and indignation. And with that, Usagi stalked into the living room, and Mamoru after her.

"We already have a _different toaster_!" Mamoru called after her, following on her heels. "You've _never_ used this one," he said. And he was right. They had her super expensive wonder machine that she had absolutely NEEDED to get for Christmas, and he'd complied. "One that you made like, _two_ separate wildly inappropriate vlogs about, because you love it so much."

"You leave Balmuda out of this!" Usagi whirled around, stopping just by the entrance of the kitchen, appalled, cradling the pastel toaster against her chest like she usually would Luna, and started petting and mumbling towards it, whispering. "He doesn't mean it, Mimi. We still need you for Poptarts."

"Oh, for the love of god," he groaned, and shook his head slowly, incredulously. "You know what _also_ has a name?" he said.

"What?"

Mamoru pointed at the two cardboard boxes in the corner of the room. Meant originally for her part of their joint study that was her former bedroom, they were blocking his bookshelf for months now, collecting dust, in a way that the small IKEA print on the side could no longer be read.

Usagi glared.

"That's different," she growled.

"Oh," he said, voice turning obnoxious, even he heard it yet couldn't care less, as the corners of his lips started to twitch into a smirk. "So, poor Micke over there is allowed to suffer because you've been too lazy to set her up after you _dragged_ me all the way out there - out of _nowhere_ , because you needed it _NOW MAMO-CHAN IT CAN'T WAIT_!" His voice had risen in pitch, trying to mimic hers, and with every word her lips pursed a little harder.

She looked pretty adorable with that furious glare on her face, he couldn't help admitting that.

"It's been three months, Usako," he threw at her. His eyebrow was raised. He knew he was grinning, enjoying this too much.

Her voice grunted a little – or mewled, it was too high for a grunt, her face scrunched up in a massive glare. And with that, she shoved the gold and white and rosé toaster into his chest. It was a little hard, and he 'oompfed' in surprise, and flexed his fingers around the metal in reflex.

"Fine," she hmpfed. "Be that way."

But upon walking away, he could just about glimpse her lips falling into the saddest, most tragic pout he'd ever seen on her, and suddenly all the fun he'd had with the situation evaporated in an instant.

"Ok, ok!" he called after her, when she'd already left the room. "The toaster can stay!"

But he didn't catch any reply, because at that moment, his kitchen timer went off, and he flew back into the kitchen with a curse on his lips, because he'd completely forgotten to watch his cake like a hawk.

He placed the toaster on the counter with a little thud and lowered himself to his knees in front of the oven.

He exhaled. It hadn't deflated.

Carefully, oh so carefully, he opened the oven door.

Usagi's hands slung around his arm, as if she'd appeared out of thin air.

"It smells _delicious_ , Mamo-chan," she purred.

He rolled his eyes through his smirk and opened the oven door fully, before he reached up to push his hands into his oven mitts, and Usagi's hands moved from his arms to claw into his dress shirt like a hungry, little koala.

It _looked_ delicious, too.

Even Luna padded into the kitchen, her little nose sniffing the air, when he extracted the cake from the oven and moved it over to the wire rack.

It steamed and wriggled, when he peeled the baking paper from it.

Usagi let out a contented, blissful sigh that caused the pride in him to puff up even more.

"You _sure_ we have to bring it?" she said mournfully. "We can't eat it now?"

He chuckled. "The faster you get ready, the faster we're out the door, and the faster you can eat this," he said.

She was out of the room faster than he could blink, and he chuckled again.

He transferred the cake into his carrier box, placed it into his largest linen bag and stacked the boxes of strawberries and cream he'd prepared as sides for the cake, beforehand, on top of it, before he turned and scratched Luna underneath the chin.

Luna, as well, was all purr, and his smirk turned even wider, when she ducked her little head and pushed soft dark fur against his hand and wrist in a little headbutt.

He was just slipping his apron off and over his head when Usagi was back in the room, naked now except for her pale and lacy underwear, holding two more casual dresses out by the hangers in each hand.

"The beige one or the black one?" she asked, holding up two peter pan collared dresses in turn, and he managed to glance at the dresses and not just her legs and breasts and collarbone, and nodded towards one.

"The beige one," he murmured, distracted, and bit his lip just before she jumped back out of his sight.

She came out of their bedroom wearing the black one not much later, fastening a little, cream-colored, slender belt around her waist, and he rolled his eyes in an amused snort, even when she turned and craned her neck wordlessly, and he zipped her up all the way and closed the little hook on her collar.

He placed a small peck of a kiss against her neck when he was done, and she giggled in return, before dashing off again.

It was only minutes later that he hefted the linen bag over his shoulder, and they walked through nighttime Juuban, dodging cheerful young people and salarymen as they made their way past illuminated conbinis and crowded izakayas with her hand snuggly in his.

As per usual, Usagi stiffened up a little when they approached the rather elegant looking building and its marble steps, and he turned back towards her with a reassuring smile that she returned wholeheartedly, and that still managed to throw him a little.

"We brought dessert!" Usagi announced brightly, holding out his linen bag with both hands and a giant smile, once the door opened up only a nudge.

"Of course, you did." Saori smiled, and stood aside to let them in.

Kobayashi greeted Usagi in a giant bear hug, lifting her up briefly as he did so, while Mamoru turned to Saori.

He greeted her with a hug, too. It was awkward and weird, and they both were stiff while doing so, but Saori's eyes were warm when they landed back on him, and she stepped back as Kobayashi thrust out his hand in Mamoru's direction.

It had taken them more than a year to finally be comfortable around each other again, especially in this constellation. And a little bit more before they'd started this tradition that must be weird for anyone who knew their story. But every four or five weeks, they met for dinner. Always here, at Saori and Kobayashi's new apartment. It was neutral ground after all – an apartment that didn't house different sets of memories for any of them.

"Sooooo," Kobayashi smirked at him. "Beautiful rendition of Katy Perry, there."

Mamoru groaned. He would never, ever, ever be able to live that particular appearance on Usagi's vlog down. That day that Usagi had begged and begged and begged and he had relented, and now there was this video on the internet where half a million subscribers – so far – had watched him drink the entire cocktail card of this posh and hip bar in Juuban with _Minako_ of all people. And turns out, smashed past a certain point, he liked to sing.

But, of course, it broke the ice, because Kobayashi was good at that, and had Usagi in whoops and Saori in modest giggles immediately.

And so Kobayashi had Usagi settle on their big, stylish couch and prattle on about her coming vlogs (she was currently filming a series where she was testing and rating _all_ the Japanese chain restaurants against each other), because everybody had long learned that Usagi was no help in the kitchen, and so it was Mamoru who followed dutifully after Saori, and started to peel the carrots for the dashi rice dish he knew by heart, because it was Saori's favorite.

They worked in silence and side by side, and it was like clockwork, because they'd made it together about a thousand times. And while this had been weird three months ago, it was now strangely reassuring.

His gaze kept glancing back to her cutting board beside him. Or more precisely, to the ring on the finger of her left hand. A ring that had not been on her finger the last time he had seen her.

He refrained from asking her about it, though. And so, the only sound between them was the soft thuds of the knife on his cutting board, and the rush of water as she moved to wash the rice.

Instead, he asked something else. His voice quiet, and his gaze on the carrots and the knife and not on her.

"Are you happy?"

Her hands stilled, and she turned the faucet off and moved the sieve a little, before she spoke.

"I am," she said, with a little nod, and conviction, but a heavy frown.

Then her gaze turned, and he felt her eyes on him.

She looked so apologetic, when he moved, finally, to meet her eyes.

"It's totally horrible to say, right?" she said. "But… you were right. I'm… Kobayashi and I are really happy. It's…" She'd turned her eyes back to the rice, moved it into her heavy pot and poured the mirin and dashi and soy sauce mixture in carefully with stiff fingers.

"Different," he finished for her with a nod.

He saw her swallow and nod. "Yes," she said, and bit her lip. "Yes."

Then those eyes again, green and so sorry. "Yes, very different," she said. "You?"

It was then that Usagi came hopping into the kitchen, exclaiming loudly, eyes wide and bright and beautiful and full of excitement and so very Usagi.

" _Oh my god, Mamo-chan_?! Did you know that Kobayashi was _in an episode of Terrace House once_?!"

Mamoru rolled his eyes to the ceiling but couldn't help the smile, and Saori giggled, and he could barely say the words, "Yes, unfortunately I do know that," before Usagi had vanished again – loudly, demanding more details from Kobayashi and threatening to call Minako, and he gently placed the filet stripes in the sizzling, sugary broth with the carrots.

Saori giggled behind her hand, and Mamoru shrugged at her with a smile in his eyes.

"Yes," he said. "I am. I'm very, very happy."

Saori's smile was the old one. The really old one. The good one.

"Good," she said.

It was after they'd all settled at the table, after Usagi and Kobayashi had charmed the table with their ridiculous stories, after Usagi had gleefully presented the cake as if she'd made it and not him, and moaned her way through it, that Kobayashi clinked his little golden fork against his champagne flute, and held his glass up afterward for a toast.

"Soooo," he said once more, with that equal smirk and gleam in his eyes from before. But this time it wasn't Mamoru's drunken internet fame that he commented with that look.

"Guess who just got promoted?" Kobayashi asked with shining, happy eyes.

Usagi cocked her head, and his brow furrowed, and he just so caught Saori blushing.

Mamoru's eyes widened. "No way! Oh my god! Saori!" he exclaimed.

"What? What?" Usagi asked, looking from eyes to eyes.

Kobayashi's chest puffed up oh so proudly, and he lifted his glass even higher. "Meet the first female chief of police in Tokyo!"

Usagi shrieked, and Saori giggled, proudly, nodding.

Mamoru jumped up. Flew around the table. Engulfed Saori in a giant, tight hug, that for once, wasn't uncomfortable or stiff at all.

"First ever female _and_ youngest ever chief of police!" Kobayashi continued proudly.

Saori's eyes shined in happiness when he let go of her, met Usagi's eyes almost shyly as her high-pitched shrieks turned into wow's and congratulations.

"And also," Saori said, biting her lip and held up her ring. "We're getting married next October..."

At this, Mamoru grew quiet. Instead, Usagi engulfed Saori in a hug, and then Kobayashi. His arms fell back to his sides, and then he smiled. "I'm really, really happy for you. Both of you," he said.

Kobayashi's nod at him was full of meaning. More than he could catch.

When they walked back home, he held her hand a little tighter.

It had rained while they'd been at Saori's and Kobayashi's, and so the streets glistened wetly and reflected the colorful lights of the neon signs and street lamps, and the cars that went by left behind that distinct sound of wet wheels on asphalt.

It had turned a little chilly. The streets were emptier now, even when the odd salaryman still stumbled drunkenly out of the odd izakaya, and Usagi was uncharacteristically silent.

He turned his eyes to her, when he noticed the slight shiver. Shrugged out of his blazer, even when he held her gaze, and dropped it across her shoulders. Her smile was bright and grateful, and her nose wrinkled in that adorable way that would do things to his gut even when they were old and grey, and he grabbed her hand again and laced their fingers together.

A lot had changed in the past one and a half years. And a lot had stayed the same.

The fairy lights were still strung around her bed frame, even when the bed had moved into what used to be his single bedroom and replaced his old one. A ton of rubbish now cluttered his apartment he'd never have expected to have strewn around his living space. Luna accepted Mamoru-cuddles now, and he still saw Reika and Motoki a lot, except now Usagi had made it into her mission to make game nights into ridiculous tournaments, and they were now more fun than he had ever expected to have. He'd also not expected to be part of regular after-hours cake splurging at Makoto's Pastry Garden, or to not even flinch anymore when Minako wildly appeared in his apartment at odd hours, or to be in Makoto's wedding party, but this was his life now, and he would not change it for the world.

Some things had changed for Usagi as well, of course. She was very vocal about the fact that she had never expected to wear ironed underwear, for one.

"It's pretty cool that we now know Tokyo's chief of police, isn't it?" Usagi said, breaking the silence.

He threw her a look, drew her a little closer as they dodged the man exiting Lawson's beside them, and slung his arm around her.

"Why, are you planning to rob someone?" he joked, but she just shrugged.

"I loved what you guys cooked," Usagi said instead.

He noticed it, suddenly. The slight tenseness in her shoulders, and how she searched for things to talk about that wasn't Saori's new engagement.

He stopped her.

Usagi blinked up at him, crossed her arms underneath his jacket, stood a little hunched, the white and blue of Lawson's neon sign reflecting off of her, and a taxi drove by behind her to the sound of wet ground.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She shook her head, and he interrupted her before she could express the 'nothing' he could already read on her lips.

"What's wrong?" he asked again, ducking his head now to catch her eyes.

She shrugged awkwardly. "You got so quiet when…" She frowned, broke off. "When Saori said they'd…"

He cocked his head, blinking, confused.

She shook her head, dismissing, and he shook his, too, in disagreement.

"What are you worried about?" he asked.

She pursed her lips, addressed his shoes. "Do you regret it?"

He blinked. "Do I regret what?"

She wrinkled her nose at the ground, still didn't look up. "I mean, I know you don't. But… just for a moment? Did you?"

He was utterly at a loss, didn't know what she meant at all… until he did, and his eyes widened in surprise.

Did he regret that Saori was getting married?

"No!" he exclaimed. It startled her, and her eyes blinked and her shoulders raised and her eyes flew to his.

No. Not at all. That hadn't been it. Not at all. But…

He swallowed. He couldn't exactly tell her that the announcement threw his own plans. That he'd gotten worried if he proposed now, she might think it was in reaction to Saori getting married, when that wasn't at all what…

He sighed, shook his head, found her eyes, and then her hands, lacing both of his against both of hers.

"I'm relieved," he said, and Usagi blinked up at him in that adorable, nervous, beautiful way. "I know I hurt her. So much. I did her wrong."

Usagi frowned. He continued talking before she had the chance to correct him again, change his 'I' into a 'we', again.

"Seeing Saori with everything she ever wanted... I feel a lot freer, now, if that makes sense?" he said, kept her gaze in the blue, flickering light of Lawson's, shrugged one shoulder.

"It feels like exhaling after holding your breath for a really long time." Like something that pressed into his heart for years is no longer there. "It's really, really good to see her happy. It makes me feel like I no longer need to feel guilty about being so ridiculously happy with you."

Her eyes blinked two times, before she broke into a smile, and her arms flew around his middle, and his nose buried itself into the crown of her head and the fresh scent of her shampoo, and he hunched his back ever further and caught her cheek in his hand.

The kiss was sweet. The brush of her soft lips barely there, the slip of her lip balm between them warm and familiar and he opened his mouth and pressed his tongue against her lower lip, and she scrunched up her nose and giggled against his mouth even when her fist had clenched into his shirt.

"We're in the middle of a street, Mamo-chan," she said, the word forming against his lips.

He shrugged, pressed his mouth against hers more urgently, and she returned the kiss through a scandalized, adorable shriek.

"I'm completely innocent," he whispered into her mouth.

"You started sex in a Ferris wheel, you lost all the rights to innocent," she deadpanned.

He smirked. Rolled his eyes, centimeters from her face, lifting away from her only barely. It was his staple reaction for Tsukino Usagi, the most infuriating, most intoxicating woman in the world.

He nodded his head behind her, to the white and blue sign that blinked at them, his eyes not leaving hers.

"Choux Cream?" he asked.

Her eyes lit up, and she pulled at his hand, dragging him inside the conbini and to the pastry shelves without another word, and he chuckled and followed.

Some things had stayed the absolute same. And some things were drastically different.

Like the joint study that he'd never wanted. The one that now made him feel antsy only because she wouldn't just let him put up that desk she'd bought to get it finished, because he wanted it so much now. This study where they would sit side by side as she worked on editing her vlog and he wrote medical reports, behind the wall of shelves that housed her filming equipment and some of his books, her picture frames filled with her and the girls, and now her and him, as well, or the silver and gold YouTube awards for her channel. And, in the drawer of his heavy wooden desk, the little red velvet box that held a platinum silver ring with a pink diamond in the shape of a heart set in a frame of smaller, clearer diamonds, waiting for the perfect opportunity.

He still hadn't figured out how one proposed really romantically. But he would. Soon.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End.
> 
> (And yes, I'm totally referencing, like, tons of my favorite foodie YouTube channels here and in this fic in general, and OF COURSE I am cause Usagi's job here, lol, and yes, Simon (from Simon and Martina) is totally a Usagi!)
> 
> I hope you liked it. Please, please, please let me know if you did! No matter if you read this when I posted it, or waaaay later.
> 
> See you in my next story, guys!


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